Two years ago, I arrived in Texas, my car full of stuff, my heart full of hope. I’ve moved a few times in my adult life, to a new place, risking the chance to build a better life.

Today, I celebrate the birthday of this man. He is good, the kind of good person I thought only existed in fairy tales and Hollywood scripts. I struggle with being too negative and snarky. He balances my bitchiness and bitterness. He reminds me of the silver linings, and pushes me to be kinder and less guarded. He accepts my quirks, supports my passions and loves my family as he loves his own.

I’m lucky.

Happy birthday to him.