When the birds I studied for my master's thesis were stolen in the middle of the night, BH was there. When a new flock came down with avian malaria and my Ph.D. research went belly-up, he was there. When my Ph.D. advisor died of a heart attack (not three hours after we figured out what to do about the whole belly-up research issue), BH actually flew home from his research several states away. He was there the next day.
And with him, I have been given extraordinary opportunities. We have lived in new and exciting places, we have explored 12 countries, and we have had two amazing children. We have seen the eye of a hurricane (Ike on Sept. 13th, 2008) and dug out from three feet of snow. Life with BH is an adventure, and I have loved every minute of it.
But the thing for which I am most grateful is BH's support. It was easy for him to help me through the challenges of academia; he is part of that world. But when I decided to start writing fiction, something he loves to read but would never dream of writing, he was my biggest critic... and my biggest champion. He wants me to write the best stories out there. He wants me to succeed. He wants me to be happy, and I want the same for him. And that's really all that matters. So happy anniversary, my dear. I love you.
Who helps you through the rough times and cheers on your successes?
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