Happy Birthday, Honey.

Today is my husband’s birthday. I know a lot of people don’t take birthdays seriously. I’ve actually heard people say, “I’m just supposed to celebrate the fact that you managed to escape the birth canal?” Well… not exactly. I think you celebrate a birthday as a way of honoring someone’s existence. It’s a way of saying, Hey, if you weren’t here, my life wouldn’t be complete. It’s a yearly reminder that the fact that you were born is important. It’s not just important on the day it happened… its important every single second of every solitary day, but we take this one day out, the anniversary of your birth, to celebrate you. Fruck your accomplishments—this isn’t about what you do…it’s about who you are and what you mean to people.
So what does my husband mean to me?
He’s the man who…

• Opens all the doors for me
• Kisses me goodbye
• Helps me carry heavy stuff to my car, even if it means getting dressed early and interrupting his morning to do so
• Calls to make sure my day is going ok—especially if he doesn’t hear from me first
• Turns off lights
• Calls before comes home every day to ask if I need him to stop and get anything
• Asks if I need anything EVERY time he gets up his chair
• Almost always willing to watch what I like on TV
• Tells me he loves me about 300 times a day
• Gives me lots of hugs and kiss
• Answers the phone at work, even when he’s REALLY busy
• Holds me when I cry, even after I’ve said mean things
• Is willing to hold my hair when I’m sick
• Goes out at 11pm because my hormones demand salsa and chips
• Puts away the leftovers in convenient lunch-sized servings for me
• Scoops the cat litter – and cleans up all other kitty messes
• Carries in all the groceries, perfectly content to let me carry the eggs and my purse
• Sleeps in the guest room 2 or 3 nights a week so I can sleep without hearing him snore
• Doesn’t yell at the cats, even when they wake him at 4a.m. … and 4:15… and 4:20… and 4:30…
• Is building my step-brother a computer in his limited spare time… just ‘cause
• Makes the bed every night before I get in it
• Reminds me to take my pills every night
• Gets out of bed to get my pills if I forget
• Closes his book and turns out the light when I’m ready for bed
• Watches countless re-runs of X-Files he’s seen dozens of times because they help me fall asleep
• Puts gas in my car on Saturdays

Even though I love those things each and every time he does them—because that’s who he is, and I love him—shouldn’t there be a day when we take the time to really celebrate who someone is at heart. This is who my husband is to me. And if he hadn’t been born 28 years ago, not only would I probably still be in Texas, best friends with a sociopath and drunk off my ass, but I would never have known this kind of predestined love. I would never have ventured from my safe little world. I might never have decided to get better, physically or mentally.
So, today, I’m celebrating my husband’s birthday, because if he hadn’t been born, my life just wouldn’t be complete.