f i v e.

five years ago today, i said yes to this man.

yes to sickness, health, poverty, wealth, and life in all it's forms.

we have faced more in these past five years than i ever imagined we could. we've spent weeks upon weeks in hospitals, and we've left those rooms behind. we've lost a child, and we've welcomed two. we've had seasons of barely making ends meet, as well as new seasons of a bit more means.

and through it, we endured. and we have loved.

he has loved me so well.

so often i find myself looking at him, wonder what made him see what he does in me. what it was that caught his attention, to love me like he does. because i don't deserve him. he sees the best in me, and encourages me to be all that i want to be. even when it would be easier to not, he pursues my good above his own.

and oh, he makes me laugh.

most days, i can't remember what life was like without him. but i do know that is was harder and lonelier and less. so much less.

because this man of mine, he is wise. he is logical, consistent and so steady. he has the ability to calm me like no one else.
he is kind.
loving.
gentle.
he is so many things that i am not, but want to be.

in short, this man is my hero. he is my joy and my partner.

he is far more than simply my best friend. he is everything i could have hoped for, and more.

happy anniversary, baby. here's to so many more years.

and no matter what they're filled with, i am blessed to share them with you.

love.

FJM

today is the fifteenth anniversary of my grandfather's death.

rhododendrons from my grandparents' yard

he was more than just a loved grandfather. he was my confidant. my protector. my hero. my best friend.

i still miss him so.

My Grandfather was a man who died too soon, yet not soon enough.

I talked to you
As I walked through
The yellowed field
To the graveyard.


You spoke to me
On the stale breeze
Then watched me leave—
Back to my car.


Ten long years past
The times you thrashed
In pain—I can
Still hear your cries.

It wasn’t fair
you died. I, scared,
Avoided stares
From your dim eyes.


Your daffodils
Bloom in March still,
Despite the chill
Of early spring

At home, New Jersey,
Under a tree
They speak to me.

They wish you didn’t leave.