Ten years ago on your birthday, you proposed to me. I wasn't the most graceful fiancé — falling in love was the hardest thing I'd ever done — but somehow you understood and took it all in stride. Even the part where I asked to get de-engaged, then begged you to make me dinner afterwards and cuddle and watch a movie.
Thanks for letting me propose to you when I was ready. And sorry about the 'will you marry me?' embroidery on your pillowcase that never got quite past 'Will.'
I recall our early love, presided over by Montara, Bolinas, Land's End, Año Nuevo, Manresa, and the countless whales and dolphins that swam by, with late-afternoon sunny dreaminess.
Then, things got hard. Really hard. We fell down. And I didn't know if we would get back up. But we did.
Now, your drive your girls to school, crying because you're all laughing so hard, and make delicious pasta dinners adorned with little hearts cut out of apples, and share cups of tea with me late into the night.
You create beautiful things, not the least of which are your two little adoring girls and a partner whose heart is full of love for you. Thank you for supporting me in exploring my whole self, even the parts that have been tucked away in hidden pockets all these years. Turns out, that's the gift you offered me ten years ago with that ring. And I offer you the same today.
We love you.
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