Sometimes early in the morning I am the only one awake in the house. I hear the hum of the refrigerator and the calls of the Mourning Doves outside.

K is already out running or cycling, as he does most mornings. I know he is either feeling the mountain breeze ripple through his running clothes as he winds up and down the trails of the Santa Monica Mountains, or he may be feeling the sun on his back and the strength of his legs as he climbs and descends the many hills of the Pacific Coast Highway.

The girls are sound asleep in their beds. Curled up tight with pillows and stuffed animals as I hope their languid summer dreams are filled with handstands, cartwheels, and belly laughs.

I sit in the silence feeling a calm wash over me that can only be described as pure contentment and gratitude for the life I am living.

Four years now past since we stood on the beach, hands clasped and hearts full. We committed our love for one another, for each other’s child, and for the blended family we were creating.

Last night, we celebrated a family anniversary together—picnic under a beautiful oak tree, playing frisbee and laughing hysterically over our athletic antics, ice cream stop on the way home, and a heartfelt comedy to watch while snuggled up on the sofa. Since that slightly overcast and perfectly warm day at the beach four short years ago, all roads have led us here.

So on these days when I sit by myself at my desk and look out into a vast canyon of rich green trees I feel like the most fortunate person in the world to have been gifted such love.

Happy Anniversary, to my sun and moon, and to our stars.