Five years ago today, Gabe proposed to me in our kitchen.
The room was empty after we'd packed up everything we owned into a trailer attached to the back of his Bronco. I was crying and he was holding me because I'd just said goodbye to my parents and my younger brother. Gabe and I were about to move to Texas, and even though it was mostly my idea, I was feeling really sad about leaving my family and our cute little apartment and our beautiful port city.
Then he was telling me how much I mean to him, that he was thankful I was leaving this place I love in order to experience living in the place he grew up, and how he always wanted to be with me and do I know how much he loves me?
Then he was down on one knee asking me to marry him. And I cried more and said yes and we squeezed each other and giddily took a bunch of self-portraits that no one else will ever see because we were totally sick with colds, exhausted from packing up, and I was not wearing makeup and we looked a little like death.
The important part is that I said yes.
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.