I am grateful for my good fortune.
More so that it all came to me by happenstance.
Today, my lovely bride celebrates a birthday and I celebrate with her.
For my sake.
She redeemed me from the vagaries of life as a bachelor. She takes good care of me. She is my comfort and my joy. She loves me.
Here is what I wrote last year to describe her:
“The one thing that has definitely turned out well for me is meeting my lovely bride. You will absolutely love her. She is an all-American gal who grew up in a two-storey colonial in Guilford, Connecticut. Her childhood home came with a small pond in the backyard. She is a rebellious hippie broad who, with a few San Miguels in her, might have a saltier mouth than a sailor fresh off the deck of an ‘estrangjero’ (a large foreign-flag freighter) anchored on Dumaguete Bay.”
We met in the second acts of our lives — fortuitously enough by a large sugary fruit bowl at a birthday party in Tacoma.
“I’m done with men,” she said to an acquaintance.
I’m glad she reconsidered.
Happy birthday my love.