Fresh. Contemporary. Modern. Photography for the fashion-inspired bride.

My Better Half

I don’t remember whose idea it was. Probably mine, because I was just so excited to hang out with him. It was the day of the Nebraska-Oklahoma game (I think!) and he chose to spend it with me instead of in front of the television. Looking back now, and knowing how obsessed he is about Husker football, I can’t believe he sacrificed that for me. We weaved our way throughout the corn, deciding that children were way better at mazes because they just go for it and don’t try to make logic out of their choices. We laid down in a clearing once it was dark and looked up at the sky, talking about things I no longer remember. He took me by the hand and sent chills throughout my body. And when he walked me to my door at the end of our first date, he kissed me.

In the past two years, we’ve been through a lot of ups and downs, but I wouldn’t change a thing. He keeps me sane, drives me crazy, and I simply love him to pieces. He is practical when I’m not thinking clearly. Encouraging when I am frustrated. We couldn’t be more opposite. Or more compatible. Well, maybe, if he’d be less worried about cleanliness sometimes.

Corey, thank you for being by my side through all the happiness, tears, and craziness. I’m so blessed to have you in my life, and I can’t wait for all the plans we’ve made. And I’m ridiculously excited for our date tonight.


One response

  1. Catie

    Who is that bearded man in the photo with you? I don’t think Corey would be very happy with you posting a pic of some weird guy when it’s your anniversary! ;)

    November 1, 2010 at 1:47 pm

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s