Two days from now we will have been an US, a we, a pair for eleven years. ELEVEN YEARS. That is ... longer than a decade.
Two days from now I will be batting my eyelids at a lovely man who will, in all likelihood, remember. But to whom eleven years is nothing. At all. Of course we have been together eleven years, OF COURSE, this is meant to be baby. All that nonsense.
I think it deserves noting. I think it deserves celebration.
I think it deserves presents.
But I will settle for his giant hand on mine, my forehead against his cheek, his certainty that this is a given.