11.11.11

We were married on 11.11.11. "Make a wish," I had said when we'd set the once-in-a-century date. And I had so many wishes for us-- youthful, childish wishes. Cake-top-candle wishes. Penny-fountain wishes. It was less of an exchange of vows and more of a crossing of the fingers. Please work out. Please always work out.

As we move forward into new chapters of our lives, I find myself with more grown-up wishes for us. 

You have been my best friend for years. I hope the fruit of them stays with us both. When we look back, I hope their memory is always sweet.

I hope we navigate the next phase with at least half of the kindness and respect that we have always shown one another.

I hope you live a long, healthy, beautiful life. I hope that I always remain a part of it.

I promise that you will always be important to me. I hope that you remember that.

I hope you find everything you are looking for in this world. I hope you dream of even more for yourself, because you deserve everything wonderful that life has to offer. I hope that the right dreams always come true.

I hope you are happy, and if you are not, I hope that you will be.

I hope you never lose your kind and generous heart. I know, of course, that you never will.

It is my sincerest hope that you find someone who can complete you in a way that I couldn't. I hope that she is as amazing as you are.

Although it is difficult to consider too deeply, I hope she is clever, and above all, kind. I hope that she makes you laugh, and I hope that she gets your wonderful sense of humor.

I hope she makes terrible puns. And I hope you learn to enjoy them.

When you come to difficult times, which I hope will be few, I hope that neither of you lets the love get too far away. I hope that we have both learned that.

Lastly, I earnestly hope that we've done the right things. And I hope we remember that when the road ahead gets difficult.