Our first conversation was about a music festival and what was on our iPods. Walking into history classes at the University of Mary Washington, with his headphones on and my earbuds in, we were the same. Our first date was a day trip with a playlist he had made, including the entirely of the 1997 Third Eye Blind album.
We went to McKay’s in Woodbridge for used CDs, CD Cellarin Leesburg, The Sound Garden in Baltimore, Deep Groove and Plan 9 Music in Richmond…we were obsessed. Now when we road trip he makes us a mixtape, and for every birthday it’s a gift. So when I listen to it again, I hear our love and I hear our happiness. It’s our songs.
I look at my husband through different eyes when we connect over a song. A perfect song. Where the chorus chimes in with a thumping bass line, a good drum kick, and a screaming guitar. It’s an unspoken
whoa. It’s a different language that only we speak. And we look at each other, we get it. Windows down, put on a song, turn it up loud … He knows every riff and I know every word. That is our love.
He proposed over Christmas 2012 because my grandmother was dying. But she heard every song he had written for me. She knew he was perfect. She helped pick out my ring, even wearing it before I did. He proposed as much to me as he did to my family, which makes me love him more. He honored them as much as he did asking for my hand. Now every Christmas since he has bought me a new ring and it’s mostly a joke, but not one I’m willing to stop either.
On our wedding day, the ceremony was at 6, but we actually married at noon. I was in my PJs, with dirty hair in a bun. We were bare foot and only asked each other one question: do you want to be here with me? Always.
You may also enjoy...