The Finest Thing

When it's time, my love, let us go like this.

I've never been much of a smiler. I have a goofy-looking face, which is really driven home whenever I fail to stifle a laugh or I pose for a picture. Because I suffer from this facial handicap, it is often hard for me to express joy.

For me, joy often expressed itself in my gait. When I was really feeling good about something there would be a noticeable spring in my step.

For much of my life, this spring could be conjured only by what I refer to as a critical event. If I was under extreme pressure regarding a project or a dealine and I exceeded expectations, then I had the spring. If I performed extremely well during a high school baseball or basketball game, I had the spring. When I was babptized February 15, 1993 I had the spring. After high school, my spring mostly turned into a limp.

In 2001 I met Ashlee. If ever there was a smile that could sum up the artistic endeavours of the whole of the Rennaisance artists, it was hers. Eleven months after our introduction, I scribbled "I love you" on the foggy window of her Neon while she wasn't looking. Almost five years later I scabbed up my knee begging her to marry me. In three months I will stare into the eyes that have beheld my faults and my triumphs for the last five and a half years and tell my her and the God we both praise of my adoration for her and make to her the promises I will keep for the rest of my earthly life.

She is my wildly inventive valentine. She is my partner. She is my best friend. She is my selfless intended. She is an incredible influence on my life. She is my masterpiece. She is my example. She is my sweetly sung song. She is my undeserving gift. She is my critical event.

She is the now-continuous spring in my step.