I almost wrote about politics today. I clocked out for lunch, dug my big-ass Dell keyboard out of my laptop bag, and completed a couple of paragraphs about the tyranny of the Arkansas legislature before I realized I didn’t give a shit anymore.
It’s been too long since I’ve publicly declared my love for my wife. Maybe that’s silly, but it’s an important thing to engage in from time to time, especially when you have a teething infant in the house.
Willie is an absolute joy. He’s even precious when he’s sad. Last night he poked his bottom lip out and we distracted him with music and toys. Sometimes he would forget he was in pain and break into laughter. Sometimes it was just time to cry.
I am so glad Gina agreed to enter into a legal contract with me, move into our house, generate a combined-DNA copy of us inside her body (but make him look just like her), and allow medical professionals to torture her for hours before precariously ripping him out of her body. I cannot communicate how thankful I am for these things. It’s a massive debt to repay, but I’m willing to spend the rest of my days giving it a shot.
I knew that we’d make it forever when we missed a flight to London and spent a day traveling from Atlanta to Paris to Heathrow only to have arrived on the day of the Tube Strike. We walked miles to our hotel, got lost multiple times (my fault), spent hours stuck on a train back from Cardiff because of a signal failure, and somehow we refrained from killing each other. There was frustration and some tears, but we were together, on a mission, on an adventure. Adventures aren’t boring, and neither was that trip.
I dragged her, exhausted, to Slough (armpit of the world I’ve been told), to briefly meet Tom Baker. We saw Sylvester McCoy again for a slightly awkward chat, and I made eye contact with Matthew Waterhouse at his empty table. These days I would have sidled up to shoot the shit, but it was my second con ever and I didn’t know what to do. I still remember his gaze, and how it seemed to say, “It’s okay. I’m not a dick. I promise.” Maybe next time, Adric.
We returned to our hotel, no train breakdown this time, and took a nap. It was four or so in the afternoon when we awoke, and I was intent on going to Kensington to see the exterior shooting location for Rose’s apartment. Gina said, “Sure,” but she didn’t know what I was up to.
We were in the courtyard, alone (or so I thought) when I kneeled and removed a blue ring box from my backpack. The girls and I had picked it up the day before Gina and I left the country, and I’d been hiding it from her for days. After we embraced I noticed a couple across the way, in a laundromat right behind where the TARDIS would have landed. Their mouths were open. I waved. They waved back.
I would say that’s the greatest thing I’ve ever pulled off, but it’s second place to this, the thing I’m still pulling off. This bond, this marriage, we’re doing it. It’s solidly one of the most important things I’ve ever done. This is my crowning achievement.
Gina, I love you with all my heart. You give me gifts, big and small, every day. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Now we’ve got some adventuring to do.