There were spontaneous weekend road trips. There were study dates. There were coffee dates. There was mini golf, sleepless nights, and lots of laughter. There were picnics on the beach. There were new jobs. There were butterflies and the skip of a heartbeat every time we kissed.
There was the threat of rain. There were ascot ties and tails and black tea-length dresses. There were yellow calla lilies and pink tulips. There was bubbly champagne. There were clicks of camera shutters and the stomp of dress shoes. There were his arms around my waist, my breath atop his lips, there was our future upon the horizon.
There are diapers and slobbery baby kisses and middle of the night snuggles. There is heartache. There is joy. There are tears. There is happiness and still lots of laughter. There are coffee dates and dinner dates and family dates. There are long lingering kisses and quick welcome home pecks on the cheek. There are muddy handprints on the walls. There is an adventure every single day.
Happy Eight Years my love. The best eight years of my life.