For most of my life, the first day of Winter has left me miserable. I hate cold; I hate the long nights; I hate snow (except on December 24th and 25th, then I'm done). For me winter is like suffering pain so extreme that you block it out. Then, three great seasons later, it shows up again and wham! Instant misery.
Then I met my wife.
Just to be clear, she wasn't my wife when I met her.
Her birthday, December 21st, is usually the first day of winter. Now I think of that day differently. From that point on, all the days are a little brighter.
People will argue about opposites attracting, but Emily and I are very much alike in many ways. We tend to be introverts; we love traveling to new places, but we're also antisocial and like sticking around at home. We love to read, and we're very much science fiction/fantasy nerds. We love to be outside ... when it's not winter.
My tenth published book just came out, and half of those books would never have seen the light of day without her. By rights, her name should also be on most of them, not only for the work she does in editing, formatting, and cover creating, but for her willingness to kick me into gear. For some reason writers love to write, but hate getting started writing. I have no explanation.
She's an animal lover, and talked me into getting a dog. Lazy as I am, I'd never have done it without her; but now we have a third member of the family. Fourth, if you include the snake, but never mind.
|Just to make it clear, that is NOT me on the left.|
She's not perfect, but what the heck--she's more perfect than I am.
I love you, Emily.