Looking through old photographs, I keep coming back to the little things. A ridiculous hat. A grin in the garden. A small hand reaching up toward a familiar face. The pictures hold a moment; the life around them holds so much more.
Today is my love’s birthday. I’m grateful for the family we have made, the laughter we find, and the ordinary days we get to share. There is still so much I want for us: more adventures, more time for just the two of us, more photographs we haven’t taken yet.
Sometimes the birthday wish is simple: may you feel as loved as you are.
A poem for my love
I love you in the photographs—
the sun, the garden, that ridiculous hat—
but even more between them,
where most of our life is at.
A small hand reaching for your face,
our children leaning near;
a hundred little ways to say,
“I’m here, my love. I’m here.”
And somewhere in the busy days,
beneath what we must do,
there’s still the lovely luck of this:
I get to love you.
So here’s to more of all of it—
more laughter, skies of blue,
more ordinary days together,
and another year of you.
Happy birthday, my love. Here’s to another year of being us.