Six years of Brandon

The thing about Brandon's eyes is that you're never really sure what color they are.  Officially they're green, but that's a fluid definition. My favorite is when they get that really soft green, the color of a brand new leaf. Once I saw his eyes turn that color that was it - I was in for the long haul.  I was super pissed that I was going to have to marry this guy.  As an 18-year-old I had plans with my life and they did not include a six-foot-two-soft-green-eyed-blond-guy with a cynical sense of humor and an awesome reggae dance. 

More infuriating is that nine years later Brandon just gets better with age.  Not just his looks, but also his personality.  With time he slowly matures and improves like a delicious cheese.  The salty satisfying kind that you savor before eating. And instead of being the sweet fig to his mature cheese, I'm slowly decomposing into the unidentified thing at the back of the fridge.

The more Brandon learns the more interesting he becomes and the more I realize how smart he is.  Scary smart. I like asking him questions about things I don't understand and then having him explain them to me in laymen's terms.  For example, suspension bridges or rotary engines.

Then there's that sexy gray hair he's getting at his temples and those lines he gets on the corner of his eyes when he smiles.  That smile. That in combination with his eyes made me fall in love with him nine years ago.  I love joking around and making him laugh because it means that I get to see that smile.

You'd think that after six years of marriage I would have grown sick of him and his looks, that I would have grown used to his face and the feel of his hair.  You'd think so, but in reality, and much to my surprise, I am amazed more and more by him every day.

His looks are just a tangible reminder to me of how great Brandon is as a whole.  I mean he's practically a saint.  I can be difficult and childish and yet Brandon is steady and loving.  For example:

True story.  I was yelling at Brandon for some reason.  Probably making us late.
"Damn it Brandon! What the hell?!?"
"Nat."
"What?!?"
"I love you."

C'mon! What am I supposed to do with that? Melt of course.

Sure, sometimes he makes me want to kill him and sometimes he looks like he could kill me.  We both know that's part of the job description.

            Husband - duties will include (but are not limited to): emotional, physical, parental and financial support, taking out the trash, hugs during period and the occasional pout including daggers shot with eyes because wife did not hang up husband's shirt the way he likes.
           Wife - duties will include (but are not limited to): emotional, physical, parental and financial support, making favorite dinners, cheering during husband's basketball games, occasional desire to smother husband with diaper.

See? It's in writing.

So here's to you Husband and our six married years.  I guess what I'm clumsily trying to explain is that I'm thankful you're handsome, I'm thankful you're smart, I'm thankful you're kind and I'm thankful you're not quite perfect.  I love you.