Dear Husband,
I’m tempted to write you a mushy, gushy letter to celebrate your birthday (because I know how much you adore the perfectly written sonnet), but since we speak in musical lyrics most of the time anyway I figured this was far more appropriate. It’s hard to believe we’ve been celebrating your birthday together for 18 years. We officially span half of your life together, old man. I have never been more thankful for you than I am today. Happy Birthday (tomorrow). As far as your three girls are concerned, you hung the moon.
xoxo,
Margarita
My boy in my favorite button down and a beanie? Yes, please.
I like the way you hung the moon, uh huh.
Well, I just like being close to you, uh huh.
When you’re gone I feel so blue, uh huh.
Yeah, I like the way you hung the moon uh huh.
I like the way you know that dance, uh huh.
I like the way you hold my hand, uh huh.
Just spin me all across the floor, uh huh.
Yeah, I like the way you know that dance, uh huh.
Well, I like the way you sing your songs, uh huh.
You’ve been singing to me all along, uh huh.
The way you loved me won my heart, uh huh.
Yeah, I like the way you sing your songs, uh huh.
I put on that white dress for you, uh huh.
I told the preacher man, “Well, yes, I do.” uh huh.
And I’ll stay and I’ll grow gray with you, uh huh.
Yeah, I put on that white dress for you, uh huh.
Hung the Moon, Drew Holcomb & The Neighbors
