The other day my husband (who turned 40 a few days ago) turned to me and said in amazement, "I'm actually an adult. I mean, I have a mortgage, a wife, 5 kids and a career. I'm all grown up!" A short pause followed as we looked each other and laughed.
Here, Father and son enter the birthday party wearing tinfoil party hats. This is the guy I feel in love with 16 years ago. He was a prankster, a jester and yet an extremely hardworking self-disciplined individual. He made me laugh. He gave great hugs. He decorated my room ceiling in dozens of glow-in-the-dark stars. We'd stay up all night playing tag in the park. Whenever one of us felt down we'd pull out a deck of cards and play Gin rummy. He came over and cried on my shoulder when the Braves lost the world series. He walked me home from work. He taught me how to mountain bike. We'd leave snow-angels on peoples lawns at 2:00 in the morning.
I remember our first kiss - butterfly kisses - as I sat on his lap in my little basement suite. He let me read my very bad stories and poetry to him and he didn't laugh. We'd buy each other Mercer Mayer books. I'd catch him staring at me from across the restaurant where we worked together. He could do an awesome Velociraptor impersonation. He never said the same joke twice.
He stole my heart.