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loveydovey

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Eighteen/seventeen.

This year has been hard – what with dozens of tiny house frustrations, a super precocious toddler, your sixty-hour a week job, a raccoon break-in, a (now solved) health insurance debacle, and a handful of other little mishaps – but I can think of no one I’d rather go through life with. 12 and half years together, and I still miss you when you’re away. It’s infatuation, it’s head-over-heels in love, it’s cheesy PDA in Kroger, except it’s also marriage and being best friends and building a whole life together.

There aren’t enough tales of happy marriages or ‘happily ever after,’ but here we are. Four and a half years of marriage and ‘husband’ and ‘wife’ still feel like holy words to me.

Basically, this:

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