Tonight's Poet Corner: Introspection
Well. The second-to-last deadline week for Yearbook has come and gone. Now only one deadline and fewer than one hundred pages stand in the way of production being completed.
But I don't want to talk about that. Or the other annoying and stressful things that happened at work. Instead, I'm just gonna gush about my wife.
Arden turned twenty-seven today. We had a really nice, casual evening: I made dinner, we watched The Great British Bake Off on Netflix, she opened presents, we ate cake. I was happy that she appreciated both gifts I got her, as I was unsure about one of them. I try not to surprise Arden when it comes to birthday or Christmas gifts much - she likes to know what she's getting, though I can get away with a surprise candy bar or pot of flowers on non-holidays. But it worked out, and now she's enjoying her new Instax camera.
I have celebrated seven of Arden's birthdays with her, whether it's in person or over the phone or on Skype. We met when she was twenty and I was almost twenty-two - and yet, the time I've spent with her has never, ever felt tedious or overwhelming. Every new day with her is a gift. I get to see her after work every afternoon, kiss her good night every evening, hold her in my arms every morning before I have to wake up and get the show on the road. It never gets old. My relationship with her never gets tiring.
I love my wife so much. And I hope we can celebrate as many more birthdays as we can. Forget twenty-seven more birthdays - let's do fifty-two more birthdays. Or if medical technology permits it, how about seventy-nine more birthdays? C'mon - she'll be the delightfully spry age of one hundred and six. However long we have, I'm going to enjoy each and every minute we have together.
Happy Birthday, mo chuisle. Thanks for the adventures so far.
Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.
But I don't want to talk about that. Or the other annoying and stressful things that happened at work. Instead, I'm just gonna gush about my wife.
Arden turned twenty-seven today. We had a really nice, casual evening: I made dinner, we watched The Great British Bake Off on Netflix, she opened presents, we ate cake. I was happy that she appreciated both gifts I got her, as I was unsure about one of them. I try not to surprise Arden when it comes to birthday or Christmas gifts much - she likes to know what she's getting, though I can get away with a surprise candy bar or pot of flowers on non-holidays. But it worked out, and now she's enjoying her new Instax camera.
I have celebrated seven of Arden's birthdays with her, whether it's in person or over the phone or on Skype. We met when she was twenty and I was almost twenty-two - and yet, the time I've spent with her has never, ever felt tedious or overwhelming. Every new day with her is a gift. I get to see her after work every afternoon, kiss her good night every evening, hold her in my arms every morning before I have to wake up and get the show on the road. It never gets old. My relationship with her never gets tiring.
I love my wife so much. And I hope we can celebrate as many more birthdays as we can. Forget twenty-seven more birthdays - let's do fifty-two more birthdays. Or if medical technology permits it, how about seventy-nine more birthdays? C'mon - she'll be the delightfully spry age of one hundred and six. However long we have, I'm going to enjoy each and every minute we have together.
Happy Birthday, mo chuisle. Thanks for the adventures so far.
Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.
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