Hey Mr. Honey, I just got your e-mail of the conversation you’ve been having with the owners of the Bed & Breakfast in Massachusetts. The room looks great, and it’s dog-friendly, so we can take the little one with us. She’s going to have a blast driving from Missouri to Massachusetts. So long as she has her daddies with her, she’s content, so I know she’ll make the trip just fine.
I can’t wait to see her with a silk ribbon around her neck holding our rings. Your idea to celebrate our tenth anniversary together by getting legally married was the best possible way to mark the occasion. Who would have thought that an Air Force brat who was born in Norway and raised in Virginia, Pennsylvania, Turkey, New Jersey, Kansas, and Indiana would wind up marrying a South City boy from St. Louis, Missouri. God does work in mysterious (and kind of confusing) ways, huh?
It’s been a busy ten years, hasn’t it? I’ll never forget our first Christmas together when you bought me a ring, got down on one knee and asked me to marry you (then I returned the favor the following Christmas). We managed to get through that really lean year when each of us was out of work for six months. Thank goodness we didn’t overlap. We learned that we’re a good team and we pull together when facing challenges instead of drifting apart. Remember the 20 lb. bag of rigatoni pasta you found at the discount store? We got a lot of cheap meals out of that, didn’t we?
And now look at us ten years later. You finished your Masters degree a couple of years ago and are about to embark on your doctorate. Our son is in his senior year of college and still on honor roll (thanks to his Dads nagging him to death about studying). I’m finally getting my degree, and in the very near future, we’ll be opening our private counseling practice together. The blessings continue to pour in, and we get one signio di Dio (sign from God) after another that we are doing what we’ve been put here to do.