Your father and I have been best friends. We spent years not speaking. We have been madly, insanely, annoy-your-friends-head-over-heels in love.
I know “soul mate” is one of those over-used, obnoxious words people often use to describe their partner. But I don’t know any other way to describe your father. When we were younger, we discovered a weird telepathic connection we shared. On many occasions it has freaked us out, but it’s easy to understand when I hear the word “soul mate”. We communicate on a different level, like we are made of the same energy, from the same soul stuff.
I met your father at a friend-of-a-friend’s house when we were both sixteen. I had no idea when I introduced myself to the incredibly attractive boy playing video games the magnitude of meeting him, and the epic love story that was just about to begin.
Meeting the love of your life at sixteen is both a gift and a curse. It is incredibly painful to let go of your soul mate in order to grow up and live your life and find out who you are. “If it’s meant to be it will be” is hard to trust when you are nineteen and simultaneously terrified of being on your own yet craving it intensely. Our love story has endured its share of twists and turns and times of struggle.
But it has always been your father. It has been him before I knew it without a doubt, or was ready for it. It was him when I was seventeen, selfish, and sometimes downright mean. It was him when I was twenty-two and we weren’t speaking. It was him the painful time we tried getting back together, but it just wasn’t right yet. It was him the night I was folding laundry and crying because my life was a mess and he called me completely out of the blue and we slowly, slowly became friends again.
It’s been your father on every long drive we have shared together. As friends catching up on each other’s lives, crazily in love contemplating our future, and sipping on cherry Icees with you, our daughter, in a car seat and the summer breeze blowing through our hair.
Your father makes me laugh countless times each day. He is never afraid to touch me, hug me, kiss me, hold my hand in public. When I was pregnant with you, he didn’t so much as sigh quietly when I took up the entire bed with my huge belly and full body pregnancy pillow, leaving him only a sliver of material for his six foot five body. When you were born and I was being stitched up, they finally offered daddy to come over and take the first look at you, and he declined, saying he wanted to wait until he could share the moment with me. And you have NO idea how excited he was to finally meet you. He held me in bed when we were beyond exhausted new parents and made me feel like everything was going to be ok. When I ask for a spoonful of his Phish Food ice cream, he gives me one with marshmallow, caramel, and a fudge fish, even if it’s the last bite in his pint. He has seen me at my worst and shown me patience and love, he has seen me at my best and made sure I knew I deserved every gift in my life.
When we finally got the timing right, and realized with effortless ease that there was no other ending than him and I together forever, I married the best man I have ever known. And that, my sweet baby girl, is how I met your father.