He's fifty years old today.
Lochlan.
I kind of want to cry but also I want to ask him if he has finally grown up yet, if he's settled, if he's happy at all. I know sometimes he truly is. I know he loves waking up with me and being close by most of the time now. I know he's not as tough as he once was when we were forced to be, and I know that inside of him lurks a total, off-the-rails bonafide freak because I've seen it with my own eyes. I've seen him waver on the brink of insanity. I've seen him give up only to come roaring back. I've seen him stand by his word time and time again and I've seen him struggle to keep his integrity pure. I've seen him grow up. I've seen him go from an indignant little boy to a pragmatic man to a cornerstone of my life and my memories with nothing more than his attention and love. So focused. So good.
He's a good human. He's the best human. He's a wonderful father and an understanding, patient co-husband. He's a good friend and an honorary brother to all. He's a prince. He's a flame. He is mine and I am his and I really find this birthday stuff getting heavy, getting strange.
I love him and I can't even describe what that's like for us but it's amazing to have known him then and see him now.
Fifty.
Wow.
