The last minute of your birthday.
Oh, look, you’re 28 and a day older and you cannot go back. It’s irreversible, hun, sorry. You are young and childish, and I love you and it’s irremediably.
Perhaps you have imagined that by now you would have a wife, not a fiancee and a friend; perhaps you have imagined that by now you would have some children and you wouldn’t be “the most childish in this household” anymore, but you do have a cat. The cutest cat in this household… We adore her.
I know I haven’t imagined this way; but you, I would never give you up. Neither our fights, our tears and your excuses. Our wounds and my excuses. Our rage and our excuses.
I met you when I needed to laugh most, and the Universe knows how much I needed to laugh afterwards, and I still need, life is not easy and sometimes love isn’t either. Job well done.
You haven’t done it any easier and I love you more for it. I know I didn’t either. I wear the “listen to me, I’m right” glasses everyday, and you are nice enough to ignore them.
I keep thinking that you were 25 when we met. 26 when we moved together and 27 when you’ve asked me to marry you…
You’re 28, a day and 15 minutes. I love you.