Normally these things aren't worth remembering, but this particular very pretty girl stuck around and eventually became my wife. And my, am I glad she did.
I often find myself staring at her, just as I did then. I still pinch myself that someone like her would want to stick with someone like me. I still get that strange fluttering in my stomach when I think about her. You'd think that 30 years would take the edge off of what makes it - her, us - special. You'd think wrong.
She was my friend before she was my girlfriend, and before we started dating we would often spend long evenings just talking on her front porch. She's been my best friend ever since, someone I can still talk to for hours and never run out of things to share. Our kids are just like her, too. Engaging, empathetic, curious, kind. It still amazes me that we made them, still makes me thankful that fate ensured our paths would cross, and stay crossed.
I could listen to her voice forever, and I'm guessing the reason that 30 years seems more like 30 seconds is because she's made the journey such a joy. Neither one of us is perfect, and I'm pretty sure I'm far less perfect than she is. Yet we seem to have been gifted with a pretty charmed life despite the usual challenges that have been thrown our way. Putting our heads together and figuring it all out has always been central to who we are, and I can't imagine what life would have been like had she not found me.
I want a lot more than another 30 years, but I also realize the universe grants no guarantees to anyone. Just over a year ago, I learned first-hand how easily all of this can be snatched away. I'm here because of her. So tomorrow, I'll wake up and stare a little, and I'll be thankful that I've been given another day with someone who makes my tummy flutter as much today as she did then.