My dearest wife,
I wish I weren’t trying hard to shake off this dastardly flu bug on the day of our eighth wedding anniversary. Much as I wish we were sitting in a cafe in Paris overlooking a pink sunset, we are not. This night, like many others before it, was spent seated at the foot of our bed, me with a bowl of cornflakes in my hand. The only difference is that tonight I refrain from sharing the bowl with you for fear you catch the flu too.
The Parisian sunset, though a clichéd romantic notion, wouldn’t have added very much to that which we already have been blessed with. I have had eight of the most amazing years of my life being married to you. Sharing a life with you and not having to bid you goodbye while I head home ala courtship days is such a wonderful privilege.
I would love to explore the beauty of the world with you, but I know in my heart of hearts, the most beautiful parts are found in the little things, the moments that truly matter.
Happy anniversary. Even if the world stopped here, I would have had more joy than I ever deserved.