We met in 2020 at Phil’s house—he was hosting a casual BBQ, and Liz showed up with a mutual friend. Pickled chicken and margaritas were definitely involved... along with the realization that we’d once lived just two houses apart, and later, ten—without ever crossing paths (likely due to our mutual love of travel and adventure). A week later, we ran into each other again at Over the Hill Gang Saloon in our neigbhrohood, where our friends’ band, Santa Cruda, was playing. Something clicked—and it kept clicking. Since then, it’s been countless trips, slow backyard mornings, competitive cribbage, laughter, love, and a lot of “what’s for dinner?” (followed by delicious home cooked meals obviously). We both grew up spending summers at our family homes back East—Phil’s on the Connecticut shore, Liz’s on a lake in the Adirondacks. Different places, same sense of home. Coincidence? Maybe. But we like to think it was all part of the plan. Phil proposed in our kitchen, over linguini with clam sauce, a bottle of Veuve, and a Ring Pop. Liz said yes before dinner was ready. Looking back, it only makes sense that Bodhi—Liz’s cat—moved in first. He figured it out before we did: this was home.