Today my Trevor turns the big 3-6. I reminded him last night that this offically makes him closer to 40 than 30, to which he reminded me that this has been true every single day since he turned 35. Smart people drive me nuts.
A little over five years ago, Trevor and I went on our first date. He showed up to that date with a single red rose and pens in his shirt pocket. Yep, pens. In his shirt pocket. We talked for four hours straight over salads and pizza, and when he pulled out one of those pens to sign the receipt, it wrote in orange. Yep, orange. This is when I knew I would marry him. When you carry around orange pens while on a date with an English teacher - an English teacher obsessed with pens that write in all sorts of different colors - you seal your future. That's the way it works.
I might have mentioned to him that he should be very careful bringing pretty pens around me in the future. Nine days later, on my 29th birthday,he brought me a huge pack of pretty pens, just for me. Two days later I told him I loved him. A week after that, he told me the same. And 16 months later we were married.
The thing is, marriage is no fairytale. Nope. Marriage is real, man, and it's full of all things pretty, all things dirty, all things easy, and all things hard. Marriage sees you through the death of loved ones, and the beginnings of loved ones, too. Marriage sees you through the loss of pregnancies and the birth of sons. In marriage, my Trevor has become the witness of all things Sara, my partner in crime, my protector, my fan, my very best friend.
My only wish on this very important day - this day that reminds me how life is a little bit of chance and a little bit of fate - is that my Trevor knows, to the very core of his being, that the greatest gift SHE has ever been given is HIM.
Happy Birthday, my love. Happy Birthday.