Turning 30.

Dear husband,

I turned 30 last week, and you whisked me off. We ate Italian food in Gramercy and wandered. We headed north to the theater, saw Hamilton, cried (the way parenthood makes things sharper sometimes). I confessed the plans I have for this year, for the decade. You listened. We held hands.

I've known you half my life now. It is not lost on me that my parents could have chosen another town, another state. You could have hesitated in writing to me, fifteen years ago. I could have gone to another school. Our grandparents could have never met.

Instead, we pass our days together - you, the champion of dreams, believer in everything I put my mind to. You, the best at lullabies and the one who brings a cup of cold water for my nightstand. You, all reason and grit, maker of egg sandwiches and optimizer of experience.

I like getting older with you.

your wife

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