Our birthdays are two weeks apart. And some years, but you’d never know it. He gets carded more often and just keeps getting cuter with each passing year {unfair}.

This morning I was out and about running errands for the shop, and as I was checking out at the home improvement store I made small talk with the cashier. We were chatting about the Christmas specials, and she asked if I’d finished my decorating at home. I snorted something along the lines of “pssht.. yeah right,” as a reply, and returned the question. She said she hadn’t had much motivation this year, because she’d just lost her husband and wasn’t feeling much in the holiday spirit. Putting up the decorations was always something special they’d done together, she explained. He’d play their favorite Christmas music on the radio and they’d have the greatest time, just the two of them.

Then she told me that she’d had good days and bad days since losing him, but today was especially hard because she’d had him on her mind and was really missing him. Most likely because of all the people (like me) bustling through her line — carts loaded down with poinsettias and strands of lights and bulk-size boxes of ornaments — checking their holiday chores off a to-do list without really stopping to appreciate the season and the people they’d haul all those Christmas wares home to. I imagine she’d like to shake every single one of us and say, “Wake up! This Christmas may be your last! Treasure it!”

My heart broke for her. I stuttered out an inadequate something-or-other about being so sorry for her loss, and encouraging her to do at least a little decorating because her husband would want her to continue their tradition [ramble, ramble…]. I should’ve hugged her. Or said something comforting and profound. But I couldn’t, because I just kept thinking of my own husband and how 8 birthdays have already gone by and the time is just going too fast. I walked to my car, suddenly hyper-aware of how blessed I am to celebrate another birthday with the man who holds my whole heart and praying that we have lots and lots more traditions left to share.

Starting tonight, with our favorite way to celebrate birthdays: a quiet dinner at home, just the two of us — three if you count the Doodle baby, which we do — with lots of wine and a movie and puppy cuddles. He doesn’t like cake {weird, I know} but that usually doesn’t stop me from picking up a cupcake or two for the festivities. Because seriously, there just aren’t enough opportunities for cupcakes.

Happy birthday to the guy who makes my heart go pitter-patter. I love you so much it hurts.

May all your birthday wishes come true!