19 years ago yesterday, Brad and I went on our first date. It was perfectly imperfect. He had planned every single detail and it was truly a perfect day--even when our reservations got lost and we ended up at Taco Bell for dinner.
Life since then has been perfectly imperfect. Monday, I broke. Life has been so full lately, and I felt like I was drowning in my roles: wife, mother, professor. The list went on and on. I love each of those roles, but at the end of the day I was feeling like there was no room for Heather anymore. I was missing something of my very own. Monday night, Brad took over dinner and the kid shuffling. I had a chance to breathe a bit. I found a yoga class that will fit my schedule and be a sacred hour and half of my very own every week. It's better.
But here's what I love. He loves me, and he knows me. Not once did he question my love for him or our kids or our life. He just knew I needed a little breathing room, and he made it for me.
Last night, I made heart shaped pizzas and opened a bottle of our favorite wine. He made me a cake. We tucked the kids and watched Netflix. It was perfectly imperfect, and I can't wait for an entire lifetime of the same...