18 years ago today, I went out to eat with my boyfriend (at the time) and three of our good friends. We all got dressed up to celebrate the 19th birthday of "J." I was the only girl with a bunch of guys. We went to a supper club near our school, Beloit College. We felt very grown up and cool. While at the "club," the waitress accidentally spilled coffee down the back of J's suit jacket. Luckily the jacket was 100% polyester (like I said, we were cool), so all the coffee did was roll off. The waitress was very apologetic but seeing that the jacket was not ruined and no coffee got on him (or burned him), J just dried himself off and said that everything was fine.
Fast forward a couple years, or rather a lot of years, and J is now my husband. The old boyfriend having been discarded many years ago. It is the night before his birthday. Another accident has happened, this time J did it to himself. While cleaning off a knife, he cut the palm of his hand. Stitches were given. Once again, J is relatively calm and everything is fine.
That is my J. He is my rock. He is my calm waters. Today is his birthday. Tonight we will go out to eat once again to celebrate. This time he will have a bandaged hand that covers his stitches. Yet this time I will not be the only girl. Instead, J will be the only boy amongst "his girls." And everything will not be just fine. They will be simply great.
I love you, J, more than words can describe. Here's to many more birthdays and hopefully less accidents!
