He walked up to me at a nightclub 42 years ago and said, "Damn, you're cute"I worked overnights and he worked construction. He’d call me on rainy days. We would meet at the lake and drink wine and talk for hours. I saw through his tough guy persona when he talked about his two girls. We both had failed marriges. He tried to play hard to get and insisted we be just friends. Until the night I had a date with another guy. He finally admitted he loved me and didn't want me to go.

We drove 400 miles to the beach to camp in our caravan. Sipping Blue Margaritas in the open sliding door, Kansas’s "Dust in the Wind" played as a massive, surreal glow rose from the ocean. We were convinced it was a UFO, but it was just a beautiful moonrise. The cosmic romance carried into the morning, when we woke up completely naked with the van doors wide open—right as the early-morning beachcombers casually strolled past us. 35 years later, we are still laughing.

In 2020, my heart surgery led to an early Covid coma and 3 months hospitalized. My husband stayed in a motel for a month, commuting hours daily until lockdown. Months later, I faced lymphoma with weeks to live. I survived, but am disabled. Now, as a retiree and a disabled survivor in a new home, an IRS debt weighs heavily on us. This prize would lift that financial burden, secure our home, and finally grant us the peaceful, healing vacation we desperately need after fighting for my life.