Co-pilot

I know that I am a very lucky person. I probably don't acknowledge it enough, or reflect on it as often as I should. But, when push comes to shove, I know deep down how fortunate I am.

For starters, I have the man pictured to the right here. I have been fortunate to have him for over a decade. First as friends, then as best friends, then as so much more (well, it wasn't quite as simple as that, but the how isn't so important.) We will have been married eight years this September. Eight years. It hardly seems possible that he's been putting up with my idiosyncrasies for that long (well, longer...)

He is my best friend. He knows me better than anyone, and can read me better than I can read myself sometimes. He seems to know when something is bothering me before I know myself.

He is goofy, playful, the yin to my yang with Q at times. Daddy is crazy, wild, adventurous. Mommy will read you books and help you sweep. But together we fit well, and are raising an amazing little girl.

I am guilty though, guilty of not letting him know how much he is appreciated. Guilty of taking him for granted, of thinking that after this long he just knows that I love him, that I need him, that I can't imagine my life without him. Guilty of forgetting that like me, he needs to hear those things and be reminded of them from time to time.

For that I'm sorry Luke. I love you, with all my heart, and I appreciate all you do. From the small (like taking out the garbage) to the big (like providing us with our beautiful home). It doesn't go unnoticed. I may forget to mention it, but I am always thinking about it, about just how lucky I am.

Thank you for being my co-pilot.