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Eight Months
2004-05-11, 4:21 p.m.

You can do a lot of things in eight months. You can plan a wedding, write a book, or go on sabbatical. You can take classes, you can pay the mortgage payment eight times, you can get two or three oil changes in your car. You can get paid sixteen times and accrue eight days of vacation. You can save up your money to go on vacation. You can gain or lose weight, start or stop going to the gym, or train for a marathon. You can do a lot of things in eight months.

You can laugh every day and cry once in a while and feel like the luckiest woman in the world for eight months. You can fall asleep with your head on his shoulder several times a week. You can bicker about who takes the first shower and who sleeps next to the wall. You can trust someone else completely. You can meet each other’s families and get to know each other’s friends. You can make friends together. You can’t sleep until you get the last call of the day. You look forward to the weekends so that you can sleep late, legs tangled together, arms wrapped around each other, clothes on the floor.

You can fall in love in eight months.

You can cry in front of him. You smile every time you think of him. You’re still touched when he insists that he walk on the outside of the sidewalk and that you exit the elevator first.

You can see several movies together. You can try new restaurants and always end up at your favorite bar. You can still spend over an hour getting ready for your hundredth date with him after eight months. You can still love the way he touches you and you can still be giddy when you think about the way his smile makes you melt.

You can have your heart broken into a million pieces in eight months.

You can’t keep your hands off each other after eight months. You can call him after the worst day of your life and hear him tell you that everything is going to be okay. You can count on him. You value his opinion. You like the way he smells your hair and that he notices haircuts, new perfumes, shaved legs, and new clothes.

You love to make him laugh. You nurse each other when you’re sick. You learn how to cook his favorite foods. You let him do his laundry at your apartment and when you’re in a good mood, you do it for him while he’s still sleeping. You try new things and experience new situations because he’s a part of your life.

You’ve never been happier than you’ve been in the last eight months.

Happy Birthday, T.