I’ve thought of the speech I’d give at our wedding; the books I’d write about us. How I’d use our partnership to give lessons on how to love and how our kids will be able to show other kids what being a parent means.

Preposterous, isn’t this?

I’ve thought of the labels we’d have in the beginning, the different stages of our growth. How hard it would be to read each other’s minds. How we’d learn to be efficient with communication.

I’ve thought of the next decades: the changes, the discussions. The hard times. I don't think we will be able to fight for too long (and i love our fights!), mostly because we’ve become really good at talking and expressing the things we like — or don’t like — on the spot (and with respect).

But, my love, we’re only human.

I’m all too aware of how difficult it is to deal with the world outside and the world in our heads. I know we’ll be fine. I know we’ll find a way. You’ll probably think at this point: “ Ah, Mr. Optimist, no be so?” and you won’t be wrong. I am the optimist.

But!

If there is something I’ve learned from the last few years with you, it’s this: there is “optimism”, and there is “practical optimism”.

I want to think here that this kind of optimism is a cousin to “hope”. I mean…if we didn’t hope to be happy, why would we bother? Eh? My love?

Just like you’ve shown me “practical pessimism”, by always looking at what could go wrong; what may not work well. I must admit, I used to find fault in this…skill. Not anymore. I understand the value of hedging one’s bet.

I understand the practicality of preparing for the worst.

I still don’t believe in soul mates. However, the more I think about love and marriage, the rules of engagement, being a parent, family and choosing a life partner…the more I understand that it — love — is a daily choice.

Every single morning, I look at you and I choose you. over and over again.
Every time I think of how messed up I am, and how you look at me with those sweet, sweet eyes, I’m reminded, albeit my weaknesses, fears, and failures, that another human cares about me more (or as much) as my parents do.

This is going to be hard. We’ve been down this road long enough to understand how precarious things are. I never considered how lucky I was to have you until I started thinking of how long we’ve been together.

Remember that time when we had to break-up? Remember when I was too scared to tell you how scared I was? How my masculine brain ( is that even a thing?), thought that admitting my fears and worries and asking for help was going to make me less of a man.

Now I know better. The key to what we have is vulnerability. I know I can trust you with all of me — good and bad. I want to trust you. I also know you have sides that aren’t stellar. I want to know you. All of you, my love. I will be here for you, as long as there is breath in this body. my partner in crime.

Ifunanya

Some things can not be put into words. No matter how long; no matter how intricate. There are feelings whose meanings only exist in other realms of expression.

You have that way of looking at me that speaks volumes of affection. The way I always want to touch you when you’re around. The hugs that never end. The kisses I long for. And…the other things I only want to do with you.

*smiles*

But we are human. And this is English. And even though it’s not enough, I want you to know that I choose you every day.

Ma babe…

All I am, and have, is yours.