It was Fourth of July weekend and I (Julia) was excited by my newfound freedom of being a recent high school grad with a car, some friends and without a care in the world. My friend Elara invited me to a house party. I was in. It was honestly a little boring and I was thinking about leaving. Until I saw an impossibly cute guy walk through the front door. Enter Matthew. Through a sea of his friends we locked eyes, he smiled at me, and that was that. I decided to stay. Cut to later that night. We escaped the party and had been talking on the porch for hours. We talked about how we both went to the same high school and it was weird we’d never met. About how I’d never been to a Steak ‘N Shake and how he was determined to fix that. About how I’d be moving to Boston to start school in a little over 2 months. (We ignored that part.) “Fourth of July is tomorrow,” he said. “Have any plans?” Cut to later that week and we had spent every hour of every day together for probably 5 days straight. I’d never clicked with anyone so quickly or connected so strongly. It was like I found my home.

It was July 3, 2020 — our 7th anniversary. Matthew was smart to choose that day because I wasn’t suspicious about how sentimental he was being. Talking about how much he loved our past, how excited he was for our future. It was also an emotional day because it would be our last anniversary as Bostonians, our cross-country move coming up in a matter of weeks. We were sad to be saying goodbye to the city that shared our love story, but happy to have the entire day to enjoy it one last time. He planned a day full of our favorite Boston things. We grabbed coffee on Newberry Street, browsed aimlessly through Beacon Hill, squirrel watched on The Esplanade. It was an unexpectedly cold day for July, with grey skies and an occasional sprinkle. The usual crowded Boston sidewalks were empty, everyone gone for the holiday weekend. Boston was all ours, if only for an afternoon. While walking along the Charles River, Matthew suggested we stop to sit on a bench. “No, not that one,” he said. “The cute one up there.” It was my favorite spot in the entire city. How I didn’t suspect, I have no idea. As I obliviously stared at a seagull flying by, I turned and saw a little black box held in his lap, a ring inside. His hands were shaking. “Will you marry me?” he choked over tears. —- We sat and shared the moment for a full hour afterward. Just me, him, our love story, and the city that once shared it.