Happy birthday to Emily, who was born on what’s usually the first day of winter—which I prefer to think of as the time when the days start getting longer. So--she's the harbinger of better days ahead. See what I did, there?
I still sometimes wonder why Emily said yes when I proposed. I was all the bad things: Old(er), poor, and lived in the north, where we could actually get snow tornadoes. I had the weird hours of a third shifter who’s also a struggling writer, and my hours have only gotten weirder since then.
Unknown to either of us, she signed on to become my editor, book designer, nurse, dog wrangler, traveling partner, photographer, best friend, and the love of my life, not at all in that order. She's the one who explained to me what Dad Jokes are, and that I tell them. What do I do in return? The dishes. That's not a fair trade, but she still loves me.
She pushes me in my writing career, and often out of my occasional (and mostly winter) funks. She's my inspiration. I could never have done our self-published books alone, which is why they're "our", and I'm not convinced I'd be published at all if she hadn't been there.
She's quite definitely my rock, my inspiration, the person who can best thump me on the back of the head when I'm acting up, and all that other mushy stuff.
Oh, and she's great with the grandkids ... but of course, she would be.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
