We were sitting outside a yurt at Joshua Tree, looking at the desert night sky. When John Mayer’s “Say What You Want to Say” came on the radio, I took it as a sign and said the first I love you. She said it right back.
I left my big-city job for one in hers. We couldn’t turn around in the tiny apartment without bumping into each other. For our first road trip just the two of us, I printed out a list of getting-to-know-you questions. By this point in our relationship, she had humored dozens of questionnaires like it with plenty more available on the internet.
At the observatory of a local college, after the astronomy majors in on the plan had excused themselves, she showed me a photo book of our favorite memories. The last photo was an x-ray of her hand holding an engagement ring.