In 2007, we went to Hawaii together. Well — technically, our graduating class went to Hawaii together. Yes, that's right. We went to middle school and high school together. But Eric and I barely spoke. Which feels funny now considering we’re getting married. Back then, he was one half of the infamous Anderson twins — a duo responsible for approximately 36% of confusion amongst Bay Area teenage girls. Think less Mary-Kate and Ashley, and more Michael B. Jordan in Sinners. And I was… observing from a safe distance. But on that flight to Hawaii, something happened that we'd look back on one day. You see, Eric is terrified of flying. Not “a little nervous.” Not “white knuckles during turbulence.” I mean genuinely terrified. So I told him to sit next to me. And somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, this giant dark-artsy football-player-looking teenager grabbed my hand during takeoff. And, again on the flight home. Yet, we didn’t date. Not after Hawaii. Not after graduation. Not for another eighteen years. Which seems insane now. In 2025, after decades of separate lives, we reconnected. This time, the timing was finally right. Actually, our mothers reconnected first. Eric’s mom, Linda, was the principal at Olivera Elementary, where Marisa’s mom worked as the librarian. After years away, Marisa stopped by the school during a visit home. Linda saw her for approximately three seconds before deciding it was now her personal mission to set us up for lunch. Eric, meanwhile, moved with significantly less urgency. But Linda was persistent. Somewhere between divine timing, fuzzy familiarity, and what can only be described as aggressive manifestation, we finally went on a date. Six hours of tacos and margaritas later, we became inseparable. We met in 2001 as kids, and now, nearly twenty years later, we’re getting married on New Year’s Eve surrounded by the people who unknowingly watched our story unfold long before we even knew we had a story. Thank you for being part of the next chapter. — Marisa & Eric (who knew??)