High School Sweetheart

And this time, I will be walking into the reunion with no doubt in my mind that I will leave with the woman I love. I am the one who insisted on coming back to Sweetheart again, to spend time with all our friends. A few years ago, we moved out to Denver, where Bailey had finally gotten herself a studio to work on her art on her own terms while I spent my days with the kids. My wife is already getting some buzz from the art community at large, and I know it’s not going to be long till they see her for the talent that she is and she breaks in big, bigger than anyone else who has ever gotten out of this town ever has before.

And I can’t wait to be there by her side when she does. I have basically retired from working at this point – I do a little writing on the side, trying to make sense of my life by putting all the pieces together in a story, but that’s slow work. I’m in no rush to get it done. I’m not even sure that I’ll put it out there when I’m done, given how personal it is. Bailey is always encouraging me to share it, but truthfully, I’m writing it for me. Writing it to wrap my head around the man I used to be, and the one that I am now.

Because the one that I am now is the one that I always wanted to be. The one that I dreamed of being when I first fell in love with her, almost two decades ago now. That is the man I know I am best at being – a husband, a father, part of a family who cares for one another and is willing to do everything they can to look out for each other.

"You ready to get going?" she asks me. The event starts in a few minutes, but frankly, I am in no rush to get down there.

"I think we can spare a little more time yet," I murmur, and I close my eyes and lean in towards her. She smiles against my kiss and I pull her in close, and, in that moment, I know that I could spend the rest of the night with her and only her, and I would be happy.

Because she is all I need. She is all I have ever needed. And all that matters is that I never forget it.