She kept showing up before she even knew I existed. Different events, same feeling every time — I was paying attention when she wasn't paying attention to me. We had mutual friends the whole time and didn't even know it. Then she walked into an event… and something just shifted. Her friend connected us, and from that moment? The rest was history. God had it planned before we ever did.

Kings Dominion. Roller coaster. Her wig did not survive the drop — and neither did my shirt, because she claimed it immediately. We came off that ride looking like a whole situation: me shirtless, her with my shirt wrapped around her head like she planned it. The kids around us? Hollering. I couldn't even be embarrassed because she owned it completely. That's my person right there — unbothered, hilarious, and still fine. Best day.

Simple. A dream vacation. Twenty one half years married means twenty one half years of showing up, choosing each other, and building something real. That deserves to be celebrated somewhere beautiful, somewhere we've never been, somewhere we can just exhale and be us — no schedules, no responsibilities, just her and me. …honoring what we built.