This Is the Life We Built

This is the tenth poem in the All the Ways I Love You series—one poem a day as we count down to my husband’s birthday. Today’s is for the mountains, the memories, the laughter, and the quiet joy of a life we’ve built with love and dog hair and everything in between.

We came for the mountains.
For the hikes and the lakes,
for the kind of wilderness
where Sophie can run without fear
of snakes or crocs—
no offence to my scaly favourites.

We came for the sky,
for the way it opens like a promise
over snow-capped peaks
and glacial water so blue it hurts.

We came for peace
and for paddles.
For raft rides and dog swims.
For Lena’s bubble backpack—
a disaster in motion,
but a memory I still love.

We didn’t come for him.
That part?
A lesson.
We moved for a man
who turned out to be almost everything
but worth it.

Still, we stayed.
Because this is ours now.

We take our soles
and our souls
to the mountains every chance we get.
We fill our weekends with reflection—
on water,
on life,
on how far we’ve come
and how damn good it feels to be together.

We shared it all with your parents—
bears and moose,
elk and wilderness,
grizzlies with cubs just off the trail.
Your mum smiling.
Your dad wide-eyed.
And us,
glowing with the pride
of showing someone else
how beautiful a life can look
when you build it with love.

We have season tickets now—
to soccer,
to hockey,
to symphonies and plays.
We no longer travel two hours
just to laugh with our favourite comedians.
They come to us now.

And sure,
there’s darkness here.
Regret.
Remnants of what was done to us.
But the love between us—
the love around us—
is so much louder
than anything she ever said.
So much truer
than anything she could ever twist.

I spiral.
I panic.
I hold my breath until I forget how to breathe.
You laugh.
Because it is funny—
her lies,
her contradictions,
her belief that she ever stood between us.

As if that were possible.

Even her father laughed.
Said he’d never seen a relationship like ours.
And truly?
Not many people have.

We are rare.
Unbreakable.
Built of mountains and soft mornings.
Of paddleboards and plays.
Of Wednesday night dog walks
and holding hands in grocery store aisles.

How lucky are we?

I ask myself every day.

And the answer—
always—
is so lucky.
So blessed.
So full of gratitude
for this life,
for your love,
for you.

Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.