Mike and I met some 13 years ago when we were just kids.  We met in Hope, Arkansas, he in a white pick up truck, me in my first Mini Cooper. 

Even though it went in all kinds of haywire directions, it was my happiest romance ever.  We danced in parking lots and parties and restaurants, whenever and wherever it popped into one of our minds. We rode his Harley through the Smokey Mountains and danced on Beale Street in Memphis.

Today is Mike's 75th birthday--even though he's not big on the whole birthday thing. 

His daughter, Jennifer, is visiting for a month and they are having a great time, including canvassing door to door for the Georgia senatorial race. "She got her daddy to do what I never could," I said.  He laughed.  He laughs a lot.  He's a happy man.

We haven't seen each other in a long time.  But whenever we talk, he always tells me I'm the love of his life.  

Some things are mutual--like that one--in spite of ourselves! 

Happy Birthday, Mike!