Today is my husband’s birthday. He already detests getting older and he’s only in his early 30’s. He has difficulty closing cabinet doors behind him and horrible aim when it comes to tossing his clothes in the laundry basket. One night as I was about to get in bed, I found a dirty sock hanging out of the cup of water on my nightstand. I’ve since switched to water bottles.
Jerimiah’s always been an all-in kind of guy. Willing to take risks even if it results in a belly flop. But the risks barely ever end that way. His ability to read up on something then turn around and do it successfully has always impressed me. He is half techie and half creative. Our friends come to him for technology interventions and he has entire conversations with other nerds in techie (it’s like listening to Klingon). On the creative side, he thrives when he has a project to work on; writing and building stuff gives him energy.
Jerimiah is sarcasm and wit. He loves pulling pranks. Our friends regularly devise ways to pay him back without collateral damage. He aims to scare me as often as possible—trying everything from dead snakes on the porch to texting me pictures of Pennywise the clown. His laugh is infectious. No really, he does this thing where he mocks my laugh, which results in me laughing so hard I both cry, and get an ab workout.
He’s not overly fond of public mushiness, so I will end on the following note. Jerimiah is my best friend and I would not want to go through life without him.
Happy birthday old man! I love you.