Today you are 26. It’s still very strange to me that you’ll always be younger than me, but this is the one sport in which I’m better than you. That is if you consider birthday having a sport, which I do. I’m sorry for the two failed attempts at gifts this year, though it was fun to tell you about them and really fun to plan you a Masters Preview picnic instead. The only snafu in this plan happened when my debit card was denied at the grocery store, though my text of, “Are we having financial difficulties!?!” was met with the confident answer that you simply had to move some funds around. I’m still not quite sure what this means, but hopefully we have a secret stash of a million dollars wherefrom you pull extra cash when I take a cooking class or go overboard on my fabric budget.
The pimento cheese sandwiches and domestic light beer with chocolate chip cookies were the best ways I knew to say I loved you this year. I know our trip in April is what you’re looking forward to most, and I still feel a little guilty about my promise to buy you a new Masters polo during our year of thrift store only shopping. I think we made up for it by promising to get rid of two older things in your closet, but this year will be forever tainted by the pastel mass of cotton soon to grace your closet shelves. We are becoming weak.
Today, more than our wedding day, I love who you are, admire your discipline, respect your convictions, and have even more fun with you that when our love was just beginning. Thanks for making marriage easy most days and challenging me to be better at everything.
You are my sunshine.