The day came and went and it wasn’t until we cuddled under the covers, falling asleep, that he leaned over and whispered, “happy sixteen months.” How did I forget? Exactly two years ago I first met the love of my life, eight months later I married him, and I forgot? Maybe its because life before him seems so distant. Maybe I really began living when I met Ben. (Most likely its just because it was our last day of classes, my little sisters birthday, and a long and dangerous evening of trampoline jumping.)
You can read about the day we met in the post I wrote last year.
In two years of life with you I have learned more about myself than I had in twenty, for better and for worse. I’ve decided you can grow up on your own, get married later, and try and mesh those two personalities together, or you can get married young, and spend so many of those growing years together. I always thought I’d do the first, but I am so grateful for the second. Growing with you these past two years has been wonderful, and just the beginning. Thank you for loving me for who I am, and for who I am going to be.