We’ve learned a thing or two, over the last six years, haven’t we? Like, 35 days is the maximum we can sanely bear you being away from home, me and two kids. Add a third child and the number drops to 26 days.
We’ve learned how to communicate, and then forgot again. We taught each other grace in the face of failure. We’ve coped with trials and errors and greater trials still. We’ve celebrated milestones; yours, mine, our kids’. We’ve loved together, lost together, grieved together and celebrated together.
I don’t know if either one of us expected the ride we’ve been on, or what this last year would bring us. But here we are, six years in, 1171 km away from the first home we knew together, at the cusp of a new year and all the ups and downs it may bring.
It’s not a journey for the faint of heart. And though there have been days where we’ve had to humble ourselves, put away pride and selfishness, remember to choose to be loving towards each other, there are far more days where people confuse us for newly-weds. Well, at least until they see the three kids, that is.
Thank you, my love. Thank you for providing for us, for loving this family we started. I know I couldn’t do this without you, and I’m proud to call you my friend, husband, lover.