My dearest Faith,
Our tenth wedding anniversary passed more than four months ago, quietly and without much fanfare. It wasn't how I had planned it in my head. It is a milestone worthy of champagne and chandeliers, ballroom dresses and fireworks, but reality reminds me that we do not live in the movie-set past of Hemingway and Fitzgerald.
You sent me a text message this morning telling me of the notification we received that my passport was nearing its expiration date. I dug out our passports, chuckled at the children's baby ID photos, but noticed how new and empty our passports were. We haven't been anywhere.
I begin to wonder if I have treated you well in the ten years we've been married. Sunrise on the Eiffel Tower or sunset at the pyramids; or the smell of grass on Bali's rice terraces…all these remain figments of our imagination yet to materialise in reality. Truth be told, I can't promise you that they will.
But this is a time for thanksgiving, not envy-induced melancholy.
I am thankful to God for the journey; and the journey was made wonderful because I had you by my side.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/annegirl/10934612845" title="Our three kids"><img src="//farm8.staticflickr.com/7344/10934612845_8f89b84890.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="Our three kids" class="img-center"></a>
Through the sleep-deprived nights, the wonder of their first uttered words, the excitement and trepidation as they took their first steps, you were there with me. Every experience and moment was new and fraught with uncertainty, but you were there alongside me to pray, to hope and to persevere.
I would wish you all the happiness in the world, or for every imagined moment of globe-trotting to come true, but I wish most of all that I have given to you what you have given to me: a lifetime filled with divine joy, godsent contentment and blessed fellowship.
The best part in these ten years of marriage is never having to say goodbye at the end of a date.
You're my home.
My dearest Faith,