The S.O. got home for our fifth wedding anniversary by the skin of his teeth.
He had been in San Diego for a few days, and was scheduled to return home Sunday, just 14 hours before I leave for a two-week business trip. This meant almost three weeks apart — the longest we’d been apart since college. But after the work portion of his trip concluded on Thursday night, he didn’t want to hang out in San Diego, alone, for three more days. He just wanted to come home. Delta had a cheap one-way flight, and he arrived around 10:30 pm the night of our anniversary. It was wonderful being able to fall asleep next to him on our anniversary, and I am so happy to have a couple days to spend together before my trip.
The past five years have been the best of my life, because of the S.O.
I love him because he always notices and compliments me when I get a haircut, but he doesn’t mind when I go to work with my hair looking like I just got electrocuted.
I love him because he always sorts out my bras and delicates when doing my laundry, even though he couldn’t care less about wadding up his t-shirts and jamming them into the dryer in a manner that requires at least two cycles.
I love him because he puts up with the granola meals I cook that neither of us enjoy, then he’ll whip up an amazing three-course midnight snack to compensate.
I love him because he stands by my side and supports me no matter what, even when I drag him to live in places he’d rather avoid like the plague.
I love him because he takes better care of me than I take of myself.
And I know I love him because while I know we faced a lot of struggles over the past five years, I can’t remember any of them clearly; the only clear memories I have of the past five years are happy ones.
Happy five years, and here’s to many more!