We met a little over two years ago, our lifetime of memories have already begun. Our first meeting almost didn’t happen— life getting in the way, as it does —but something in me was convinced we’d be a good match, so I stayed persistent. I’m glad I did. I didn’t know what it was then. Now, I know it was the beginning of everything.

We discovered we lived just a few miles apart, which made everything feel a little more real—and a little more nerve-wracking. When we finally met, we were both excited and nervous. It had been a while since either of us had been in a serious relationship, and we weren’t sure how that first date would go.

Then came the second date… and shortly after, she had to leave town for a few weeks. We didn’t know what the time apart would mean, or if anything would continue. But night after night, we talked on the phone. We learned each other’s stories, quirks, dreams. Something began to grow between us, even from a distance. We found each other in conversation.

In laughter over the phone, in shared silences, in the comfort of voices that began to feel like home. This was special.

When she came back, we picked up right where we left off. We started spending time together constantly. It wasn’t always seamless—we were very different people with different tastes and perspectives. But our bond was strong. We stumbled through the newness and found strength in understanding. We challenged each other, supported each other, and slowly began weaving our lives together.

There were nervous moments—her meeting my kids, us meeting each other’s parents—but they were milestones that brought us closer. We traveled together to Florida and Tennessee, explored beaches, and tried new things. Every trip became a chapter in our story.

Eventually, she became a part of my family. She loved my children as if they were her own. She cared for them, and for me, in ways I never expected but always hoped for. We even got a puppy together—another little piece of our growing life.

I don’t know the exact moment I knew I had to marry her. Maybe it was one of our quiet nights at home. Maybe it was when she laughed at one of my bad jokes. Maybe it was when I saw her comforting and caring for my kids. She cared for me. I cared for her.

And somewhere in all that caring, I realized—and I knew.

So one evening, just the two of us, after dinner and drinks and a night of fun, we came home and sat outside under the stars. I looked at her, shared how I wanted my life to be, shared how her life had impacted me, and asked her to be my wife.

And she said yes.