Happy Anniversary, my Dashing Litigator

Two years ago today, I was sitting nervously at a lively bar in a tapas restaurant awaiting your arrival.

Two years ago today, I couldn't have known how profoundly my life was about to change.

Two years ago today, 1,000 prayers said in the dark, alone in my bed, over many, many nights - were answered.

I know a lot of words. In the past, I have been awarded on my ability to spell a lot of words. And I've made a career of speaking other people's words aloud on stage. And yet, at this moment, I am without words, at a loss as to how to adequately convey what you mean to me. What you've done for me. Who you are to me.
But I will try.

First, you have healed me. For years I had been walking around completely convinced that I was healthy and whole, capable and sure. While underneath I was a mass of unseen cracks and crevices. But you were so patient with me, smoothing over my rough spots and creating a safe place for me to emerge from my cocoon. You didn't run from my frequent tears and anxieties. You simply wrapped your arms around me until they passed.

You have nourished me. Literally, in the countless delicious meals you have cooked for me. From coq a vin and risotto, to peanut butter toast and smoothies. And in each and every morsel, I have felt your love and care for me.

I have learned so much about myself from being with you. I never knew that I could give so much love and care so much for another as I do for you, that someone could matter to me so much. I now celebrate each calendar holiday as though it were my first...because everything seems fresh and new and takes on a deeper and more profound meaning with you .

I love our routine...but I don't like that word. Routine sounds so boring, so un-exciting. And my life with you is anything but. I love starting each day in your arms, I love hearing your voice singing as you dress - whether it's a take on Elvis or Johnny Cash - it never ceases to amuse me. I love our rides to work in the car...your hand on my leg, and my fingers tickling the back of your neck. Humdrum chores like cleaning and folding laundry suddenly become loving little things we do for the upkeep of our happy home.

I love our Duncan, and I love watching you be a 'dog daddy'. I am in awe of your devotion to him - to us, to our family. I am humbled by your generosity, astounded at your energy, grateful for your endless support of me and my dreams...however silly they are. You are my biggest fan, my most enthusiastic cheerleader, my date on a Saturday night, my fiercest backgammon opponent.
You are my best friend. You are the first one I call when I have good news, and the first one I run to for a hug. You know me - better than I know myself - you know my flaws, shortcomings and late bloomer tendencies - and you're still here.

Together we've come through the trials and tribulations of having a dog, we've survived vacations, extended stays and holidays with our respective families, moving (three times), taking the Bar (one time!), and time apart (Divas, Live!).

Together we've conquered co-habitation (3 months and counting), cranky landlords, weddings, inadequate dog boarding facilities, flight delays, luggage delays, flat tires and sickness - laughing through most of it.

My darling, you are quite simply the love of my life. I believe that God meant for us to be together. Perhaps it's our 'matching moles', our mutual love for good food, wine and Jackass, the way my hand fits so easily into yours, or perhaps it's something far deeper than that. I only know that I have never felt more at peace with myself or with another, than I do with you.

I am so proud to be with you, so honored that you choose me, and so thrilled to be your Carrie.

I love you, honey.

Happy Anniversary.