The Letter B

I met my husband while we were at school. He was not who I was looking for. I was looking for a tall, dark and handsome guy who wanted to go to law school alongside me. Or rather, I wasn't looking for anyone at all.
My hair was short, his hair was long. I was polished, he was a hippie. He was all sorts of wrong, I tell you but he had the cutest smile. I couldn't get him out of my head. So we dated and fell in love. And then I graduated, got a job in the city and waited for him to propose.
And waited.
And waited.
Every time we went to dinner, I thought that he was going to pop the question. He'd reach for his wallet and I'd prepare myself for him to pull out a ring. Until one day he did, in my apartment parking lot, where I least expected it.
We said our vows three short months later in front of our family and friends. We laughed, we cried, we said I do. Now three short years later, I wake up every morning and still say I do to the boy with the cutest smile.
A few people have asked about my necklace, as I wear it often. I wore it straight for our first year of marriage, never taking it off. We bought it on our honeymoon, during a time that we didn't have much money. Originally the "B" was for my husband's name and now almost three years since we bought that necklace, it has come to have a different meaning. I look at that initial as how I now look at our life we've built together. We used to move separately, waiting on the other one to catch up. But now we move together. What once meant one, now means both.