
Because every day is a gift when you are with the person that speaks to your heart like no one else…
Even though it was only our third date — and her first visit to my (now our) home town — back in 2006, I already knew I loved her. Since early October, we had been emailing every day and talking for hours each night. We knew everything about each other from our life goals and how we approach parenting, to whether we preferred Mayonnaise or Miracle Whip (A deal breaker — and it’s Mayo, by the way).
When we met for the first time on Oct. 28, 2006, the connection was deep, earthshaking and instantaneous. Time stopped, the world disappeared and the moment we took hands I knew — KNEW — this was something amazing and heaven-sent. By the time we had our third date a little over two weeks later, I already knew something else: I absolutely loved her.
Continue reading It’s been 16 years since our first ‘I Love You’

I knew very little about the autism spectrum back in 2006, when I met the young boy who would become my son. My wife and I had been dating for several months when we decided it was time to introduce each other to our children. She explained that he had Asperger’s Syndrome and likely wouldn’t make eye contact — and to not take it personally if he avoided any physical contact like a firm handshake.
Sitting on the edge of the bed this morning, I looked over at my wife’s slowly stirring figure. I watched her stretch beneath the blankets and finish with that little squeal that means it was a good stretch. She yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand like she always does. Her eyes focused and she slowly smiled at me.
He looked very out of place sitting alone in the flight terminal, his arms folded over a Superman backpack, and large brown eyes peering out from beneath his baseball cap. A few seats away, a keyboard recital was being performed by a businessman wearing Bluetooth headphones and chastising someone at “headquarters” about overspending.
Ten years ago tonight, I had my first date.
Eight years ago tomorrow, I stood at the altar, watching as my wife crossed the courtyard toward the church. I remember smiling so much my cheeks hurt; I remember the pride and appreciation I felt knowing I was about to be her husband; and I remember a momentary breeze lifting a strand of hair away from her face, like God’s finger gently brushing it aside as she entered the chapel.
In early July, when