It was a windy afternoon in Austin, Texas. Our worn sneakers scuffed across the sidewalk as we playfully chased each other through the bustling streets. I was a wide-eyed nineteen-year-old in a cheap jean jacket, and Allison, twenty, with her dark hair cascading down her back, wore black sandals and carried an aura of kindness that touched everyone she met. As I got ahead, lost in the wonder of the city, I glanced back and was captivated by the joy in her laughter. Our eyes locked, and in that moment, it felt like we were silently communicating a deep realization.

It was March 8th, 2020, just before the world would shut down. As if fate had given us one last adventure, we had impulsively bought tickets to see a show with friends—a performance of Every Brilliant Thing at the Zach Theatre, a show we loved for its touching message.

The show revolves around a list of “Brilliant Things” the main character creates for their mother, written on papers, notecards, sticky notes, and more—all in an effort to highlight the beautiful moments in life, big or small.

After a day of traveling from Corpus Christi to Austin and exploring the city, we arrived at the theatre just before the show. The lobby was filled with soft-spoken people, admiring the decorations and preparing to enter the space. Before we went in, I noticed a wall of sticky notes where patrons were encouraged to write their own “Brilliant Thing” and stick it up. Among the million things I was grateful for, it wasn’t long before I took a lime green sticky note and anonymously placed it on the wall.

“Looking into the eyes of someone who loves you.”

Little did I know, Allison added her own note shortly after. In green marker, it read:

“Laughing with your favorite person.”

The show was beautiful. When the house lights came up, I was in tears. Allison held me for a long time in the front row of our section, not caring that people might see me so vulnerable. Shortly after, we were back in the car, driving to Corpus Christi for school. The ride with our friends was strangely serene, the usual post-show energy replaced with a peaceful silence.

After being dropped off at the house, and before saying goodnight, we finally voiced what we had been feeling all day: “I love you.”

Flash forward to January 10th, 2021. I don’t remember much about the day itself, but that night, sitting alone at my desk in my Walmart-brand swivel chair, I had a realization. Having spent nearly a year together, growing so much, discovering so much, and truly feeling like we were placed on earth to be with each other, I knew I needed to marry Allison. The next morning, I grabbed a lime green sticky note and wrote the date—1/11/21. Below it, I slowly penned:

Hi Allison Marie,

Last night, I realized how I will ask you to marry me.

Love,

Jacob

I hid the note away in a blank envelope in my desk. The following day, I wrote another:

1/12/2021

Every day, I will write you a note to tell you how much I love you.

Love,

Jacob

And again, five days later:

1/17/2021

Well, I already missed a few days. But I hope the

lifetime we share together will make it up!

~ Love,

Jacob

Over the next few years, I wrote her notes sporadically, not knowing exactly how I would use them, but certain they would play a role in the proposal.

After saving up enough money, I bought Allison’s ring in late September of 2023. It was then that I began to finalize my plans. There is a wooden lookout at our favorite walking trail overlooking the river. At least once a week, we walk there, sharing stories, talking about our future, or complaining about our jobs. Allison has a way of making the mundane beautiful.

Being by the water was important to me for the proposal. The day before I asked her out, we had taken a spontaneous trip to the beach with friends late at night. We found a wooden pier and lay together, gazing at the stars. The lookout by the river captured that feeling perfectly.

I set the proposal date in my mind for November 21st, four years after our night at the beach. To cover my tracks, I arranged a photo session with our photographer friend, ensuring the date was saved.

But something was missing. Allison has a deep love for her friends and family, and it pained me that they couldn’t be part of the proposal. So, I decided to involve them in the sticky notes.

I reached out to all her loved ones, asking them to write a note about why Allison is such a brilliant person. Over the next few months, letters poured in from all over the country, each containing colorful sticky notes filled with love.

The original date was rained out, so we postponed to the 24th. Luckily, this delay eased any suspicion that the photo shoot might be more than it seemed. I arrived early to the lookout to set up the notes. Along the trail, sticky notes were placed for her to read, leading up to the spot.

When she arrived, hundreds of notes from myself and her loved ones were scattered along the wooden lookout. After reading a few, just like the day I first asked her out in a hallway in the Center for Arts at Texas A&M University-Corpus Christi, I read her a poem, got down on one knee, and asked her to marry me. I couldn’t be happier that she said yes.

We are beyond excited to celebrate with you nearly a year later, on November 23rd, 2024!

~ Jacob