Today Andreas turns 32 years old. 32! I remember us walking down The Ave together when we first started dating, and me casually asking how old he was … praying to myself, “Please let him be 21, please let him be 21″ because at that time going to clubs was very, very important. He was indeed 21 (whew!) and somehow now he’s 32. That means we’ve spent a third of our lives together.

I’ve been clingier than usual this year, prone to whining when he leaves for circus school and clutching a bit when he heads off on travel without me. It’s uncharacteristic, but maybe it’s just the invisible ties between us growing into barky roots and steal girders. maybe as they get stronger, it hurts a little bit more to stretch them out over wide distances.

Andreas is pretty much the everything that makes my everywhere better. He’s my sweet tea in the morning and my cuddle-rump at night. He’s the one who laughs courteously at all my lame jokes and the one who waits patiently while I laugh at them myself. He’s my specialist special, and my most beloved.

And today is the day Andreas was born. It’s an important day.