I started this post about a dozen times. I can’t get the words right. Too much flowery prose seems cheap. Not enough seems cold. How do you sum up or speak about not just ten years of your life, but the person whom has made everything you love possible. A handful of words just doesn’t seem to cut it. But, they’re what I’ve got.
Big Daddy really wasn’t my type. On the surface we probably seemed mismatched all those years ago. I’m not sure that we don’t sometimes seem mismatched now. Only on the surface. People who would consider us mismatched would be wrong. Big Daddy is my perfect foil (and I’ve referred to him as that numerous times over the past ten years. The hunter to my gatherer, the yin to my yang, the ebb to my flow, etc, etc etc). But, the truth was I like preppy boys. Pretty preppy boys. Big Daddy is NOT a pretty preppy boy. Not only is Big Daddy a…well….a geek/nerd, Big Daddy doesn’t have any preppy boy trappings. When I met Big Daddy he wore polos and jeans to work and heavy metal t-shirts on the weekends. He loved Alice in Chains and Metallica and Marilyn Manson and Led Zeppelin. To say I did NOT like those things was an under statement. If you looked at Big Daddy on the surface he seemed the most unlikely match for me.
But I looked below the surface and found him perfect. For me.
I found someone smart and funny. I found someone who wanted the same things I did for my future. I found someone caring and generous and for whom it was effortless to be that way. I found someone who did the right thing always. Who prided himself on doing the right thing always. Even when it’s difficult. I found someone with a good heart and a great sense of humor and the drive and ambition to be the best version of himself.
Ten years ago today we ran away and got married. We didn’t really run, I guess, just wanted to DO it and didn’t really have the money to do it in a way that would allow us to include everyone so we just included ourselves. I’ve never regretted it. We just wanted to be married, so we were.
Some people find marriage a struggle. Some people have to work hard to be happy. Big Daddy and I don’t have to try to be happy together. We just are. Being married to Big Daddy is the easiest thing I do every day. Easier than breathing. Loving Big Daddy is even easier than that. Easier than blinking. Or dreaming.
And Big Daddy thinks I’m capable of amazing things. He sees all of me; the good and the bad and the very, very ugly and still loves me. I hide nothing. I obscure nothing. Big Daddy sees it all and still believes the best of of me.
Tonight we’ll go out to dinner. You can’t really go on a romantic get away with a two week old baby waiting in the wings (not to mention the six week “restriction”). We’ll hold hands across the table and I’m certain both of us will be counting our blessings. We have so many.
I love you, Big Daddy. With everything I have and everything I am. The best things in my life came through you.
