Then they heard this announcement - "It's a boy."
Fifty years ago today, my sweet husband was born.
My joke is that he was born, and my parents immediately celebrated.
I was born a few days less than nine months after him.
We will eat, drink, and make merry.
We will tell stories and remember our 28+ years together.
Nope, it hasn't always been smooth sailing.
His birth family wasn't the Waltons or the Huxtables.
That's all I'm gonna say about that.
After such an unceremonial start, we have traveled many miles, celebrated many milestones, and endured much sorrow since that first night. Four and a half years of dating before being married. Two amazing children. Connecticut. San Francisco. Hawaii. San Diego. Florida. North Carolina. GE. Bank of America. Spain. England. Costa Rica. Puerto Rico. Never missing a college reunion. Kanswer. Bipolar disorder. The death of both of our fathers. Both of our mothers moving to Charlotte.
Even though not everyone thought we were a good match, even though we (may) have had that same thought ourselves on occasion, I am enormously grateful that we have stayed together. Through the very difficult times. Through sickness and health. Richer and poorer. Family problems and rejection.
He has blossomed into the most generous, gentle, encouraging husband and father and son.
And today, he reaches the half-century milestone.
Still bright, determined, hard-working.
Still loving, kind, gentle, generous.
Still peace-loving, protective, and loyal.
Still funny, thoughtful, and caring.
I thank God for this man everyday.
Here's to 50 more years, my dear.