We’re a decade into our love story.
It started with a boy who appeared on my doorstep during my sophomore year of college.
Last night, that same boy snuck into our sons’ bedroom and made valentines with one son while the other snoozed soundly in his bed.
That same boy who proposed with two dozen white roses is bringing home my favorite take-out pizza tonight, our traditional Valentine’s celebration these days.
I’ve been through three looong pregnancies with the boy who played Dashboard Confessional in the car on our first date.
Sometimes I tell that boy to wash his face when he comes home because I can smell the evidence of a hard day at the office on his brow. (Supersonic smell is just one of the gifts pregnancy left me.)
The boy I’ve loved since our first bike ride together has now taught two miniature versions of himself how to ride. Before long, he’ll teach one more.