On the occasion of your 40th birthday, which is tomorrow.

It's been coming for a while now. It's always been ahead of mine, but not too long ago it was much further away. It's almost here! We aren't even together today to celebrate. You're in Pennsylvania, preparing our new home and cramming some work in before our week at the beach/couple weeks in Maine.

Do you know you are 40?

We met 8 years ago, which is hard to believe. I loved you instantly because I had spotted you, all long-haired and bearded, on campus. I told my parents right away I was marrying you. When I moved to DC and you moved to St. Louis, it became apparent that the only kind of man whom I found attractive was someone who looked like you. It was pretty much decided at that point that I would apply to graduate school in St. Louis, marry you, have your baby(s?), and pluck gray hairs out of your ears when you were too old to do it for yourself.

I made a good decision.

We've been thinking What can we get for daddy for his birthday? But you are The Rotten(est) Present Receiver Of All Time and after this long we've determined it's best to let you get something for yourself. Something special which wouldn't be appropriate for days that aren't your birthday.

My grandmother thinks she'll buy you a nice tie, and, well, that's funny enough to be the only present you may receive. A tie. For your 40th birthday. How appropriate. When might you wear it? Maybe that can be a new thing you pick up when you start teaching in the fall. I wanted to say, N0! Just get a good bottle of red wine or something else that can be consumed at the party. I didn't. Anyway, I will bake for you, of course. Make your favorite cake and hope it's the best thing you've ever had (or at least that you tell me it is, rather).

I love you now for all of the reasons I loved you then. We complement each other well. For example, I meant it when I said that something you are really good at in our family is being the cleaner upper, the finisher. You are the person who steps in and finishes things. I make piles of leaves and you scoop all of them up and make them go away. I can't do stuff like that. When I'm exhausted from trying to convince the contractor he needs to start/finish work at a more rapid pace, you call him with your stern voice and things get done. You tell me I am good at motivating you to do things. I think that's true. I also think you chose me because of my charm, wit, and flawless beauty.

It works. And I am glad you are here(ish), with me, doing all of these things, 8 years later. Here's to 40 more (virtual clink, clink)!

I love you and wish you a happy, happy birthday.