He was 25 when I moved to North Carolina so we could stop being long-distance.
He was 28 when he got down on one knee in my third-grade classroom and when we said "I do" on a beach in St. John.
He was 30 when we both got our Master's degrees.
He was 31 when we first laid eyes on our daughter.
He was 33 when he took a leap of faith and took a new job in a new state, promising a new adventure for our little family.
He was 34 when we met our son, our miracle.
And today, he's 35.
For each year that I've been a part of his life, he has made me a better person. It is always an honor for me to be able to help him celebrate his birthdays. He is my best friend, my rock, the most hardworking person I know, an amazing dad to our children, and my favorite person in the whole wide world.
I love you, T. Happy Birthday!
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