Eight Years Ago to the Day...

Eight years ago to the day, I met my wife Gina. It was in the afternoon. It was a Saturday. Later that night, we went out to see a band play. I don’t remember the name of the band, but then again, I wasn’t there to hear the band. I kissed her that night, and we haven’t been apart since.

For me, love has been the single most important feeling I have tried to feel in my life, as I suspect it has been for so many others. The notion that there is someone who cares passionately and deeply for you can only be a compliment to your own passion for life.

In many ways, it only empowers you that much more. Without it, something feels misplaced. Missing. You feel incomplete, but when you know that someone loves you—not because they simply say it (that’s far too easy)—because you actually feel it, it’s a feeling that just can’t be replaced.

And sometimes, LOVE just shows up in the smallest of moments. The other day, Gina and I were getting ready to go on a shoot in the blistering heat, and she said to me, “Did you remember to put your sun block on?”

Now I know this may sound a bit absurd and insignificant, but at that moment, I paused and I realized that she still loved me. That she still cared. She didn’t say I LOVE YOU, but she showed me that she loved me with a small gesture.

And eight years later, I find myself cherishing those tender moments as much as I did the first night I met her (kissed her).