Seven years ago, I met my soulmate on a mission trip to Arlington, Texas. At the time, I thought we were just two high schoolers who had met on the last night of the trip and somehow talked for somewhere close to five hours (the time passed very quickly) and exchanged numbers the next morning before we went our separate ways. As I watched her leave, I was not even sure we would even keep in touch. But we did. Seven years of texts, calls, Facetime, watching shows and movies (I introduced her to Parks and Rec, and she introduced me to Avatar: The Last Airbender). No matter what friends came and went, I always knew she would be there and that everything would be ok once I saw her face. Even though we were just friends for so long, I could never explain (or admit to myself) why this girl from Arkansas felt like home to me. I could never explain why I was so happy after talking with her. I could never explain why I treasured my connection with her so closely. Until, in 2021, I finally wrote down everything I felt about this girl, put it in an envelope, and put that envelope in my desk (hidden underneath my drawer organizer), where it sat for the next three years. Every time I thought about throwing it away, I couldn't. I would read the words, know that they were still true, and put the letter back. Finally, after graduating from college in May of 2023, I was driving up to Texarkana, Arkansas for my first job interview. And I realized, lump in my throat, that I could ask Kristen to meet with me for lunch afterward. After pulling over several times to type a text that I did not send in fear, I finally got the courage to ask her if she would drive an hour and a half to meet me halfway to have lunch. And, to my utter disbelief, she did. I saw her for the first time in five years, and my heart leapt into my throat when I saw her. We went to a Mexican restaurant and talked for another five hours (again, time flew by) and I dropped her back off at her truck. We took a picture together that day I still treasure to this day. On the drive back to Texas, I was praying, "I don't understand God. She is literally it. Why does she live so far away?" Little did I know that later that year, we would start talking every day. Our conversations would deepen. My day no longer felt complete without talking to her. All the things I knew for seven years I was reminded of: she was (and is) utterly kind, joyful, genuine, honest, pure, loving, loyal, and God-centered. She was (and is) radiant, funny, beautiful inside and out, hardworking, caring, and warm. Even when she did not see those things in herself, that is what I saw. And I could not get her out of my mind, and it was eating me up. I talked to friends about her. I could not wait until I could talk to her again. I wished she was with me no matter where I was or what I was doing. I realized she was my best friend in the world, and she always would be. So, after a lot of prayer, I told this girl I had been friends with for seven years that I liked her (I used that word because I did not want to freak her out). She needed time, so I waited. In the meantime, I took a step and applied to jobs in Fort Smith, Arkansas (I had been applying out of state ever since graduating and never got an offer despite some interviews). I got two phone interviews very soon after and got an offer after the first in-person interview I did with Georgia Pacific before I even left the building. Although this was great news, it washed right through me because what I was really looking forward to was happening after the interview: I was going to see my best friend again. She had reciprocated my feelings a month before, and I was going to get to see her. I moved to Fort Smith, asked her to be my girlfriend, and a year later I get to marry the person I treasure most in this world. This was a very long way of saying I love her with everything in me, and I cannot believe I get to spend my life with her. Hers Always, David Scego