Those of you who know me well enough know that I'm not particularly sappy. You won't find a single Celine Dion song on my iPod and although I love Sex and the City as much as the next thirty-something woman, I love Dexter more. You know that I'm far more comfortable propping up the bar with the blokes sharing stories of sheep shit than I am discussing the merits of Chanel vs Dior.
But please, allow me a moment here. Today's a special day. Today I sit back and reflect of
two years of marriage with the sweetest, most loving and caring man I have ever met. Two years of unwavering support through thick and thin. Two years of being held while I cry (and
for a tough nut, I cry a lot). Two years of thigh-slapping laughter. Two years of knowing what the other is thinking (except when it comes to cleaning the house - there's no way we're on the same wavelength there!) and saying the same thing at the same time. Two years of sharing excitement over the prospect of becoming a family and then actually doing it. Two years of snuggling on the couch, of holding hands wherever we go. Two years of just being together, not needing to talk.
We've had a grand romance. Him falling for me in Australia years ago and me falling for him on the phone a year later. Another year later we reunited and have never looked back. A year of snatched weekends, struggling with long distance. Then a year of struggles. Culture shock, change, staying in one place, learning a new language and lifestyle. A year of patience (him) and plotting (me) preparing for a wedding that was a perfect day. Then the rollercoaster. Cancer scare, pregnancy and finally the greatest possible gift; Raina. Our second year of marriage has been the most difficult yet rewarding year of our lives.
Maarten, thank you for the best times of my life. Thank you for our daughter, thank you for loving me.
I love you, happy anniversary.