For my 30th birthday, Andy gave me an incredible gift.
Every day for an entire year, he wrote me a postcard. That’s 365 postcards. 365 days of commitment. 365 love letters, random thoughts, amusing poems, fond memories, doodles, notes of encouragement, and more.
I cried when I realized the scope of what he had given me. The dedication and discipline that it took. The thoughtfulness. The tenderness.
He never missed a single day. He bought postcards from all over, sometimes even when we were together, quickly sneaking them to the register while I was browsing a different part of the store. He made time for his project — for me — during business trips. He even managed to write these postcards while we were traveling to and from Taiwan, never mind that we were together on planes and in airports for 36 hours straight each way. I had no idea.
It took us about 5 hours to read all of the postcards once. We’ve started going through them again, savoring this round, marking favorites. It’s another level of joy and love that we’re getting out of this gift, together.
This is what people mean when they say it’s the thought that counts. This was not an expensive present, but it’s worth far more than any dollar value.
Starting with 30, people tend to dread getting older, especially the big milestone years. But if Andy is going to come up with surprises like this, how can I do anything other than look forward to each birthday and feel grateful at every age?