Happy Birthday, my love…
I’ve tried writing this letter a few times and I end up shutting my computer because words fail me, much like many things have failed me these past few weeks. I looked across the small table while we shared antipasti last week and I said I might have lost my mind. Stress, you said,it’s just the pressure you’re putting on yourself…don’t worry about it. I said it might be a tumor and you rolled your eyes, insisting it was not, in fact, a tumor.
The following day you found me in bed curled with my computer, crying. I said I was going to give up. You quietly shook your head and closed my computer. Well, if you’re going to quit, it’ll be tomorrow, after you get some rest.
When I came home from an engagement shoot in Las Vegas last week, you and Polo–parked just outside the Arrivals gate–waved from the front seat. Well, you waved. Polo barked. You handed me an apple (rightly anticipating my travel hunger) and threw my bags in the back seat.
Today is your birthday and I’m having a hard time thinking of something nice I could say that compares to the niceness you show me on a daily basis. I feel like the luckiest girl to be your wife and today marks the day the world became a better place by your birth. Thank you for being my best friend and I can’t wait to celebrate another year of life.
Happy Birthday, my love.
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