That guy

This is the little boy I was praying for when, as a little girl, I asked God for a husband.  I wanted somebody with dark hair who was cute.  That was pretty much it.  I was never one of those pretty, popular and outgoing little girls.  I was awkward, shy and I wore corrective shoes.  I figured I better start praying early if I wanted a cute husband with dark hair.
When I was fifteen, this is the teenage boy I met at church.  He had dark hair and he was cute.  He was a musician and he was funny and he was kind and he loved Jesus.  This is the teenage boy who asked me to go steady in 1982, his senior year and my sophomore year in high school.
This is the 21 year old young man I married, the 23 year old father of my first baby and the 24 year daddy of my second one. 
This is the 39 year old man who worked seven days a week to put me through nursing school. 
This is the 47 year old man I asked God for when I was too young to know about love.  He's the guy with salt & pepper hair and he's still cute.  He's the one who text messaged me at work today to tell me the hardest part about the end of vacation is missing being with me all day.  He's the one who sets the example of getting up early to pray and read the Bible to remind me to do the same. 
This is the guy who thinks I'm asleep when he comes home from practice and kisses me good night softly on the head.  He's my babydaddy.  He's the grandfather of my future grandchildren.
Yeah, he's that guy.