Jessi Cole Jackson

Today is my husband’s birthday. His 30th birthday. The first Big Birthday he’s had in 9 years and the last one he’ll before heading over that proverbial hill into the dreaded Middle Ages.  

I’ve made a lot of jokes that last few months about us dreading turning 30 (I’ll follow in his footsteps in another couple months), but actually, I’m really, really looking forward to our next decade. Our 20s have been hard and while I don’t expect the nature of life to change any and it all to suddenly become breezy, I do think some really amazing things are down the road just a bit.

We’re not doing anything really for his big day, which he seems to be fine with. Hopefully we can find a place for him to watch the first Wing’s game of the season (nicely scheduled guys!) and he can eat an obscenely large cheeseburger. We’re trying to save up for a nice trip somewhere fun and new this year as the Big Celebration. Hence, no party.

But I can tell the interwebs how much I love his face and how happy I am that we found each other early in life so that even at the young age of 30, we’ve gotten to experience the whole of a decade with each other.

Happy Birthday, Love of Mine. I wish you all the very, very best in the world. May your year be filled with blessings bigger and better than any of it’s sorrows and lots of hockey. Also, puppies. Just for good measure.