Our first trip together — we got sunburned and loved every second.
Family life in full swing — messy, loud, and perfect.
Today — older, wiser, and still sneaking dessert before dinner.
No big occasion, just a quiet celebration of decades of love, mischief, and shared biscuits.
Ours wasn’t a fairy tale. It was more like a well-worn paperback — a little frayed at the edges, full of scribbled notes and the occasional coffee stain. We've taken wrong turns (literally and metaphorically), burnt a few meals, and had more debates over TV shows than we’d like to admit. And yet, we’ve somehow made it here, still laughing, still holding hands, still finishing each other’s sentences — and snacks.
We’ve built a life on quiet routines and inside jokes. Shared glances across crowded rooms. Cups of tea made just right. Storms have come and gone — some loud, some silent — but we’ve always found our way back to each other, and to that quiet comfort of just sitting side by side, watching the world move.
Looking back, it’s not the big milestones we treasure most — it’s the ordinary days made special just by being together. And as we look ahead, we know this: the story is still being written. The chapters may be slower, the font a bit bigger, but the plot is still solid.
So join us — not to celebrate perfection, but persistence. Not for a grand performance, but for a good laugh, a shared toast, and maybe a bit of dancing (if our knees behave).
She said hi. He said something awkward. Sparks flew anyway.
Vows, cake, and one cousin who tried to object — we’re still not over it.
Drafty windows, shag carpet, and more love than floor space.
Noise. Mess. Joy. Chaos. And somehow... still married.
We got lost in Rome and found ourselves in Paris (mostly at cafés).
Older, wiser, and still arguing over whose turn it is to put the kettle on.
Our first trip together — we got sunburned and loved every second.
Family life in full swing — messy, loud, and perfect.
Today — older, wiser, and still sneaking dessert before dinner.
I never thought one person could make me laugh, cry, and feel so utterly known — all in one cup of tea. You’ve always been my calm in the chaos, my warm hand in the cold, and my reminder to never take life too seriously. Thank you for always showing up, even when I didn’t ask. Especially when I didn’t ask.
They said marriage was work — and they were right. But no one warned me how much I’d laugh doing it. You’ve been the best part of my days for decades, and still, I look forward to every morning we get to sit, sip, and bicker about nothing. Here’s to all our weird little habits — and how perfectly they fit together.