We met in the hum of duty,
the weight of uniforms,
two lives marching separate paths,
yet always crossing.
For ten years, we were only friends,
witnesses to the quiet wreckage of growing up,
learning how to rise,
how to carry what we could not undo.
Then, the world shifted.
We were no longer just airmen,
but two unguarded hearts,
finding love in an unexpected place,
where peace did not demand permission to bloom.
You who loves without hesitation,
who steadied me when I could not stand.
You—who taught me that tenderness
is not something to be earned,
but freely given, like breath.
I hope I offer you something in return—
a quiet strength, a grounding force,
a partner who sees you,
not just for who you are,
but for the quiet goodness you carry
in every step, in every touch,
in every moment you show up for us.
You may not always understand me,
but you never turn away—
except when you’re laughing at me,
when your humor lightens the weight of my past,
turns the heavy into something I can hold.
Eleven years have shaped us,
not into something broken,
but into something whole.
So, on this first year of us,
I offer you my truth,
my gratitude,
and the peace your love has given me,
hoping I can give you even a fraction of the quiet
you’ve given me.