Eight on Eight

The scent of warm, baked chicken fills my home. The rain is falling softly outside as fall begins to assert its presence with cooler temperatures and tiny gusts of wind.

A steaming mug of rich, dark coffee sits by my side. A small white triple-layered cake frosted with a thick equally white buttercream icing sits on a tray nearby. It speaks of a celebration yet to happen.

The house is quiet. The girls are away.

Eight years ago H and I stood beside each other and in front of our family and friends vowing to spend our lives together.

Happy Anniversary H. Thank you for eight wonderful years.