11 years and 97 days...

Yesterday we finally managed to celebrate our tenth anniversary at the Godevaart in Antwerp!
Only a year and 97 days late, but it was worth the wait (for an overview of the food, look to Twitter on the left. The wines were memorable too, especially the Muscadet, which came with the scallop).

It's been an interesting ride, with immigration issues, petitioning the government, befriending a Belgian consul, no job, a job, deciding to have a baby, having a baby, considering a second, buying a house, downsizing professionally, upgrading professionally...

Who would have thought that the editorial assistant in Antwerp and the graphics editor in Atlanta would ever meet up, fall in love and be here all this time later? Who could have predicted all this, considering that the night before I flew to Hotlanta for the first time, I basically painted the town of Antwerp bright bright red, consumed the best part of a bottle of Lagavulin, and managed to sprain my ankle as I headed down the infamous staircase of my apartment building (the aerobics queen of Belgium even gasped and gave up on the third floor, but the views were unbeatable: the river Scheldt on one side, cathedral on the other).

What could she have thought when this vision of loveliness growled 'get me out of here' as I limped through the sliding doors after having passed US immigration positively reeking of whiskey? In fact, I am still surprised that I made it through immigration at all in that state.
These days I'd just be hauled back to the plane for that return flight after a strip search.

I was surprised, overwhelmed and honoured that she would have me.

And that, dear friends, is the morale of this story: she consented to have me and to hold me. And she has all of these eleven years. And for that, dearest SO, all I can say, is abject thanks on my behalf and I love you.