The Best Part Is, He Doesn't Even READ My Blog. Bygones.

Dear Chris,

The greatest thing that has ever happened to me in the 5+ year relationship we've had happens today.  After all these years of waiting patiently, you turn 30.  Which is FINALLY a respectable age for a mother of 3 to have a crush on someone.  Thank you, sweet baby Jesus.

I don't know why I can't write this post for you today.  Maybe it's because I might see you tomorrow, maybe it's because you are, indeed, 30 and it's time to measure my responses to you, maybe it's because I've written you so many of these, I've used up all the words.  Whatever it is, I can't seem to get this right.  And you know I've been writing this for months.

I have followed you through so many transitions in your life so far, and the way you have grown and changed has amazed me, mostly because of how you haven't really changed at all.  The Chris that played XBox and hung my kids art on his walls and thought about everything a little too much is still the Chris today that has The Career and The House and The Dog.  You've grown, you've improved, you've gotten better, but you'll always be you.  And thank god for that, because you is pretty damn alright.

I am sitting here, with a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat, trying to write this to you.  Why?  I don't know.  I've never not known what to say to you.  In fact, I usually say far too much.  Today, it just doesn't seem enough to say I Love You or Thank You.  I feel like there's a bigger way to explain what you are in my life, because I think that thing you are in my life is bigger than we ever intended it to be.

You always seemed *this* much too young for me to admit an admiration for, and today you are old enough.  You always seemed *this* much too young for me to really talk about life, about my life, about the things that make me tick with, and today you are old enough.  You always seemed *this* much too young for me to really need, and today you are old enough.  Maybe that's what's got me rattled.  Maybe now I have to really admit how much I admire you, how much I want you to know every little thing there is about me, and me you, and how much I need you in my life.

I'm not particularly good at needing things, in case you hadn't noticed.  It kind of wiggs me out.

Sometimes, when you've really got my goat, as you are so very capable of doing, I wish for just a second that I hadn't been sitting on that stoop when you walked past, that you hadn't been holding that damn book, that I hadn't found the courage to say something about it.  In those moments when I dream that I'd never met you, I think of all the roads we've walked these past 5ish years, and how you have grown into my family and I yours, how everything that happens in our lives from here on out includes you in some way, even when you don't know it.  I imagine the roads you will most likely walk down this coming decade, and how someday I'll get to see you become a husband, and then a father, and I cannot for one second imagine missing any of that.  There is no where I would rather be than right there by your side as this next chapter in your life unfolds. Because, as it does, it will be grand and beautiful and something indeed to behold.

And so, today, 30 years after the day your mother delivered you in the front seat of her car, our relationship shifts a little.  We grow up today.  Today I will not tell you how much I love you, because you already know that, and I will not thank you for every single thing you have done for and brought to my family, but I will say this; You sir, knowing you, having you be a part of this little life I'm trying to lead, has been a greater honor than I think I deserve.  Me, my children, everyone you touch; we are all better people for having you in our lives.  I hope to still be writing you these on your 40th birthday, and I know that if I do, I won't really have that much different to say.  And that is the beauty of you.

All my love, all my life.

S

And yeah, if none of that came out, I was just going to post this and walk away. It's good to always have a back up.