Today

I don't have much time for standing in front of mirrors, but when I do, I am reminded that I have been granted the gift of years (decades full of them). The corners of my eyes hold evidence of a childhood spent squinting in the sun and laughing with friends. Lines (crows feet, to be exact) have lingered.


I spend more time at the dinner table, hanging out in the family room, or riding in the passenger seat. During those times, I'm reminded again that I've been given the gift of years (decades full of them) - years spent next to a man who calls my crows feet "cute" and tells me that if he does his job right, my face should end up covered in laugh lines.



Today, we celebrated years, the years of one man in particular. We ate cupcakes with all the trimmings a four-year-old can dream up (and we only caught 2 of those paper flowers on fire when lighting the candles). Because, four-year-olds understand that regardless of if you're four or thirty-four, those who make you laugh, who create memories that linger on your face should be celebrated with gusto (and frosting and sprinkles and chocolate chips and maraschino cherries and squiggly candles). Because time is a gift. With sprinkles on top. Lots and lots of sprinkles.

And hopefully, lots of wrinkles to come.