We’ve been married for 10 years, Travis.

Where has the time gone?

And why can’t I remember all of the moments that I told myself to remember?

It’s Wednesday afternoon and I’m making you a quiche.  Because it’s your favorite and because it’s easy for me to make.  At least I think it’s your favorite; you gobble it up every time I make one.  Come to think of it, you gobble up all of the food I make for you, smiling and telling the kids that I’m a “great chef.”  We both know better.

But they don’t.

Because of you, they think the world of me.  They see the way you take care of me and know that I’m worth a second look.  They mimic you, and in return, I get triple the hugs and triple the kisses.

Do you remember life before our kids?  It’s so hard for me to remember.  It was good then but it is GREAT now.

Fleeting memories from those pre-kid days will pop up from time to time though.  Like sitting in the back of your Toyota pickup at the base of Keystone, eating a cold piece of pizza after we’d skied ALLL day long, boots still on and our faces wind burnt.  Or that time I cut my hair and you said I looked like a ninja assassin and then I cried.  Or living in that little apartment on the lake in Tennessee and waking every morning to jet skiers and the horrible humidity.  Or how on our wedding night, we stood barefoot in the kitchen and gorged on carrot cake and cream cheese frosting because we didn’t get to eat any of that reception food that we’d picked out.  That was 10 years ago TODAY!

Turns out I can remember a lot.  Nice.

Among everything, I remember the way you’ve always made me feel.

Cherished. 

Taken care of.

Protected.

Pursued.

You’ve never let us sleep on a fight.  Ever.  In fact, I can’t remember the last time we actually had an argument.  Is that healthy??  Maybe we should fight more.  You’ve always fought FOR me but never against me.

I haven’t started your quiche yet.  Porter woke up which woke Clara up and now we’re all sitting on the couch watching Blues Clues and I’m typing with my elbows tucked in as tightly as they’ll bend because four people on the couch is one too many.  I tell ya – kids require flexibility.

Speaking of, I want to have like 10 more of your babies, Travis.

Let’s make an army!

Seeing you in that role of dad, seeing the way they look back up at you….there are no words.  You were sexy before, but now, it’s just over the top.  The beard and the long hair and the guitar playing only help your cause.  I hope you still think I’m sexy after all these years.  I know you do; you tell me often.

10 years and we’re still honeymooning.  How blessed are we?!?!  That week turned into 10 years.

And I want a million more with YOU.

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splendid…lindsay