For My Wife

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May 2, 2011: What I remember was black and white and gray. Not just a haze, but a blur of events that led to that long two minutes of you walking towards me. As they played the fateful song that we named years ago on a trip up north, the colors began to fill in, like a scene taken directly out of a Pleasantville set.

Indeed, the skies were blue.

The music, the colors, the deafening pound in my heart, and the sight of you stepping out that white vintage Volkswagen beetle made the tears of happiness unstoppable; I didn’t mind looking like a crybaby in front of our family and friends. It seemed that there was just you and me at that very moment. And all that mattered was that I love you.

Wait, did you seriously just write about the socks? But it only happened that one time… and that other time… Fine. Thank you for the 3 minutes you spend finding the missing pair every time, and how you gently and untiringly remind me to tie them together. I did so yesterday, by the way.

I’m sorry about the toothpaste. I still need time on that.

Sorry if it takes me a while to choose from a menu. In my defense, it does take me a while to choose because I want to make sure that I am getting the best. It’s like when I was finding the love of my life. I was only looking for someone smart and gorgeous, and it took a while before I found you.

Although smart and gorgeous you are, you do have your childlike days too, and we take turns being the eldest kid and the single parent of our family. Like how you still don’t want to use seatbelts after all these years. We should call it even.

The morning kisses? You seem to forget why I even work to begin with. You inspire me with the kisses you give every night before I leave for the office, so I just return the favor the next day.

And how you paid for our first “date”, only because you were luring me into texting you to say thanks and how I will get even by taking you out on a second date. You used a classic pick up move on me too, see?

And I bring home food not just to give you a break. You cook for me and the kids so much that I want to thank you by cooking for you too. But time constraints only allow me to bring takeaway.

You see, I only do things to reciprocate everything you do. Because up until now you still spoil me as much as you did six years ago, when you practically arranged my first solo trip to Cebu.

And while you thank me for that one time I picked you up when you were breaking down, you seem to forget the countless times you put me back on my feet when I was feeling burned out and/or worn out from my job(s); and/or from being a parent.

I love you for putting my broken heart back together, and supergluing it with our two extraordinary children. You three are the reason why my life is beautiful.

Happy Anniversary!

P.S. Sorry this just came in. You beat me to it and yours was hard to top. Next year, I’m writing first.