The day we met, I knew I would never forget you. Your dad called you and told you that you needed to drop whatever you were doing to come meet me. He knew before we did. You showed up with a handmade pirate coat, that you had finished that morning, and a sketchbook to try to impress me. You drew for me the first time, giving me a knowing smirk like we had already known each other a while. We played our game of cat and mouse, never quite able to be. Timing was never on our side back then, but we've never let a timeline dictate our journey. We just knew we were meant to be together. One day we said, "Let's just do this." Seven years later, you got down on one knee, dressed like a pirate, reminiscent of the first day we met, and asked me to spend the rest of my life with you. Time stopped in that moment, just for you and I. We made our own time, and forever would still never enough time with you.