It feels as though there've been few moments to stop and think and breathe in the nine years we've been together, six married. Moving flats every six months in London. Getting married. Moving to Canada. Two babies. A dog. A lot.
And yet still we can talk about the banalest of every day things, and listen to each other's complaints, and laugh at what might otherwise drive a person to insanity.
Your first words to me, back in 2000 at university, were something to do with informing me I was mounting my presentation poster the wrong way up. And honestly? I thought to myself, arrogant. But hot. I never imagined I'd be spending my life with you, all the way over here on the other side of the world, with our own little family.
You make me happy.
And yes, we both suck for forgetting our anniversary this morning until I opened a card my Mum had sent in the mail. That's okay.
p.s. I'm pregnant again. Just kidding. Ha.