On a cool Sunday in October, Emily and Greg met for coffee at a well-known bookseller in the far western suburbs of Richmond. It was a first date. The first of many that came at an increasing frequency as the cool weather belied the growing fire in their hearts. But all that was to come later, after the minutes rushed past all too quickly as they lost themselves in conversation at that multinational bookseller, in the pleasant joy of discovering someone new and wonderful. The date sped along like a sports car, twisting and turning through conversation until it came upon other plans and was forced to come to a (brief) stop. Other dates followed. Great meals, great conversation, great times. Emily graciously and tactfully humored Greg’s long-standing fascination with film. She put on a brave face and stomached a 206-minute Scorsese picture on their third date. This author struggles now to think of a clearer image of attraction. Soon there was a whiff of inseparability. Then something more. The pieces came together, the vignettes, one after another, connecting with ease into a wonderful tapestry. Parents were met, holidays were celebrated, milestones passed. Each day was easier and more natural than the last. They discovered a shared love of traveling to unknown corners of the United States—East Tennessee, South Ohio, the so-called Crystal River region of Florida. It was there that they swam with manatees, a nearly life-long dream of Emily’s that she says Greg humored (but that Greg really did enjoy). After so many shared memories, one thing became apparent to Greg – it was time to ask Emily to marry him. And she said yes!