Today is Maria’s birthday, which we’re celebrating Thursday at a Ladysmith Black Mambazo concert in Troy, N.Y.

I got her two presents, a silver locket which says only “me-you-forever” and the slouch hat she’s wearing in the photo. (I got her one other thing, but I’m not telling yet.)

It is a joy to buy Maria presents since she buys nothing for herself.  She gets pissed off every time I buy her something, but I don’t care.

She deserves it.

The shrinks say that the divorce rate is so high because people are married longer than ever before, and they tire of one another and get on each other’s nerves. I do see that often.

It has not happened in our ten years of marriage; our time together crackles with love, life, and creativity (and snails.)

I’m older than Maria, and the odds are we won’t be married so long that we no longer love one another. I’m also amazed and delighted to see that every day I’m with Maria. I love her more than the day before.

My life for her is fresh and vibrant, like a first love, and for me, the last.

We do sometimes get on one another’s nerves, we have had some stellar battles, but the passion and joy and respect and love never seem to fade. We are each other’s fiercest advocate and warrior.

Maria is one of the most remarkable people I have ever known.

Her enthusiasm for life, her passion for art, her love of the natural and of the animals, her curiosity, humor, hard work,  and her intellect and courage are a never-ending joy to be around.

Love is built on many things, but respect and admiration are the foundation of ours.

The people she grew up with did everything but batter her into jelly when it comes to confidence and encouragement; she is shedding all of that like a wet dog sheds rain. She did not, as expected, go off and get married and have kids and center her life around family dinners and rituals.

She paid for that but has prevailed. My Belly Dancing wife is singing her song to the world every day; it gets louder, richer, more creative all the time. And she did it all by herself.

I love watching her put her life together as she sees it, carefully, thoughtfully, and always with compassion.

And always on her terms, without compromise or surrender. I don’t mind arguing with her once in a while, but I wouldn’t want to mess with her. Underneath it all, she is tough as nails. She will be whatever she wishes to be.

I’m not a tree, or a donkey, or a wounded bird, or a snail. But I think she loves me anyway. Being loved by someone like this can make all the difference in the world.

Maria is an ethical artist, full of pride and authenticity. More and more people want her work in their homes; people send her beautiful fabrics almost every day from all over the country.

It is nothing short of a miracle that we found one another in West Hebron, N.Y., which is not crammed full of mating prospects for somebody like me and has more cows than people.

First, she saved my life with her loyalty, encouragement,  trust, and love – healing I desperately needed. Now, she inspires and enriches my life and fills it with love.

More importantly, she accepts me for who I am, and I accept her in the same way.

We don’t make a big deal out of birthdays around here, but I am happy to wish her a Happy Birthday and many more. I love you madly, sweet person, and I am proud of you.

I tell my friends that even an old dog hits the hydrant once in awhile.

For me, each birthday marks my life with a person I love more every single year.