I can't remember where I got this photo, but I do remember reading that it was a wedding dress and the bride crocheted it herself. Isn't is amazing? It steals my breath away and wish I could get married again and wear one just like it.
Which I would do a million times over if I believed in it. I'm one who tries to live up to my wedding vows everyday, hoping they won't fad over time. The original promises I made are graffitied all over my heart.
I married Sugar Daddy sixteen years ago. We were young and stupid and crazy in love. Most of all, we were blessed to find each other. I'd say it was dumb luck but I know better.
I've had my struggles in life. I've been down and out and so poor I had to eat canned pineapple for an entire week until the pay check came. I've seen some sadness and weathered some storms. I have some scars.
But. Here's where I'm so very very blessed: I've never not been absolutely head over heels in love with my husband. It's an amazing gift. I stand all amazed most days at my good fortune to have married the very person I would choose every time to be in the fox hole with, no matter the battle.
Oh sure we have our fights and disagreements. He wishes I wasn't directionally challenged. I take issue with sweaty running clothes dropped on the floor and stinky yerba maté cups in the sink.
We needle each other out of spite or boredom. We mutter sarcastic remarks under our breath. We play ro-sham-bo over diaper changes and bedtime chores. We both think the other has a poor memory.
But at the end of the day, even if I'm irritated and out of sorts with him, I want to cuddle up to my husband. I want to smell his neck and put my hand on his cool cheek. I want to fall asleep with the comforting heft of him on my right side, listening to his deep bear breaths.
I'm crazy about Sugar Daddy. He's my Clark Kent. And there's not a thing known to man that can change that.
Lucky, lucky me.