A request, and dedication.

SockMama has requested I dedicate a post to her (or her alter ego, SockHobbit), but I don’t think I’m going to do it. See, the moniker “SockHobbit” came to being as a joke. She had mentioned that all she does is fold my socks, and furthered the joke by saying she was a “SockElf.” I, of course, took this a step further and suggested “SockHobbit” better suits her. Mainly because, as Lord of the Rings proves, hobbits are short, cute, and fiercely loving to all things; while elves, as good as they are with bow and arrow, tend to be pompous and conceited—basically Trump with pointy ears and less money.

Anyhow, the point.

On August 17, 2002, I pledged my life to a person. Not a Hobbit or Elf and certainly not a sock-folding Hobbit or Elf at that.

But a person.

Someone who leads me to a better myself, encourages me in everything I do, and live a stronger life. A person who, at the sight of a downtrodden person, defines the very word of compassion by looking them in the eye, smiling and wishing them a good day; a person who must go out of her way to become angry or embittered. Someone who, if the occasion were ever to present itself, would gladly give up her ability to walk upright to a limping beagle named Scout.

A person who, regardless of how disturbing, crappy, disappointing, and irritating life can sometimes be, can always appreciate a simple grin or beautiful moment; someone who holds other’s happiness in higher regard than her own.

A person who wakes up next to me every morning and, amid the reckless confusion that can be our morning routine, finds the time to hug me and tell me she loves me.

A person I am proud to know, and honored to be married.

I love you, Jaime.