Go Shawty… It’s Sherbert Day!

written by Marc E. Check July 23, 2017

Today I wanted to wish my dear Andie, my partner in crime and quite literal ride-or-die, the happiest of birthdays!

Yes, at midnight she turned an unthinkable age of twenty-eight.  Phew.  

Perhaps I should start thinking about trading in for a newer model (I kid…I kid!)

I’m quite seriously the luckiest guy in the world

Andie came into my life after I had decided to embark on this journey, and we met under the strangest of coincidences, almost not intersecting for various reasons, but ultimately letting the Universe place us together for a brief evening that is one I will remember forever; a pivotal point in my life where things changed significantly and I’m sure our DNA spontaneously and slightly altered.  Our meeting was predestined, it seems, for this place and this time. She needed my story, and I needed hers, and as we fly once again down an interstate in Pennsylvania towards another destination and inevitable adventure we recount more of our shared story and reveal deeper layers of our individual ones. 

I love her madly.

Our age difference has been  the target of many jokes and humorous jibes, not least of which by my own daughter who also just recently had her sixteenth birthday (on July 20th).  I’m proud of her for many reasons (She is beautiful, talented, and most importantly – kind), not the least of which being her sense of humor and quick-wit. In a recent conversation over lunch  with Andie and I she said she was dating a “senior” (she will be a high school junior this fall), to which Andie replied kiddingly (and giving my daughter a slow pitch down the middle to take a whack at) “Oh, a senior, like with false teeth and dentures and everything?” and without skipping a beat my daughter replies…

“Yes, I want to be just like you and my dad!”

Grrrrrrrr….

Kidding aside, what I have shared with my daughter, and others, is an absolute truth about this age-disparate relationship:

I did not date Andie because she was twenty-seven years old,
I dated her despite the fact that she was only twenty-seven years old.

I’m glad I gave the improbable a chance, because as I sit here writing, propelled at seventy-seven miles an hour through time and space towards our next destination, I look over at the woman I love and feel an enormous amount of respect for this now ancient twenty-eight year-old.  She has lived more life and opened her mind more than the vast majority of people do in their entire lifetime, and by doing so she inspires others to the same standards of non-convention and the search for the true meaning of life and living (and for me she continues to do this in spades, every single day). 

Happy twenty-eighth trip around the sun, my baboushka*…
…my Andie, my Amanda, my ‘mander, my Natasha…
…my assistant, my darlin’, my muse, my partner in crime, my lyrical savant…
…my student, my teacher, my mechanic, my redneck, my DJ…
…my driver, my fellow foodie, my constant instigator, my cheerleader…
…my editor, my critic, my defender…
…and my equally insane seeker of the truth and beauty in all things.

I hope to write on many, many more of these, and I hope I’m still doing so while being propelled towards our next amazing adventure.  

Thank you for being crazy with me. 

*From Russian ба́бушка (bábuškagrandmother, granny), diminutive of ба́ба (bábaold woman).

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