It's the first day of classes at Rice University, freshman year. Robert is awkwardly standing aside rows of long wooden tables in his residential college's dining hall, eyes darting around, nervously chit-chatting with his new peers. Then an announcement: it's time for the information session about university majors. Rather than give his future education due consideration, Robert has spotted Morgan and feels his heart fluttering. All he can think is---by golly, she's gorgeous! He decides to attend the "humanities information session" not because he's interested in pursuing a degree in English literature, but because Morgan seems to be headed over to the corner of the hall where that particular information session is. The humdrum of course numbers and syllabi summaries form the backdrop to which Robert makes first contact with this alluring gal. He finds out that he and Morgan both speak French, have a penchant for paninis, and enjoy creating art. Robert leaves the humanities degrees information session mesmerized by Morgan's beautiful brown hair and gentle demeanor. He also has no clue what courses he needs to sign up for. Later, Robert realizes he's in luck. He's sees a banner made from colorful construction paper, posted to a door down his hall. It says "Morgan U" and has a little cartoon cat on it. Proximity gives ample opportunities for further interaction over the next year, and eventually, Robert asks her: "There's this cool documentary about kids playing basketball in New York city. Wanna watch it together?" She obliges. What ensues is a flurry of ten years, moving around the U.S., to Switzerland, and a colorful mish-mash of life adventures. Robert is very grateful for that fateful encounter years ago at the humanities majors information session. Although he didn't end up getting a degree in humanities, he found his human and is ready to make his and Morgan's ties officially forever.

A little over a decade ago, I spotted a lanky and smiling Robert from across the courtyard at our residential college during orientation week. The memory is hazy around the edges—half-drowned in Houston's August swelter—but what remains distinctly clear is the strange feeling that I'd encountered someone who would go on to play an important role in my life. Throughout the tumult of orientation, our paths crossed with surprising frequency. Robert appeared at the same Humanities advising session and expressed interest in a French degree (something I've since learned was a ploy), and I discovered that he lived just two doors down from me. I don't remember many details of our early conversations, but I do recall that they were struck up with ease and always revealed something new we had in common. One of our earliest chats occurred in the Baker Commons when I asked Robert—comically large headphones around his neck, slouched in front of his dinosaur of a laptop "making beats", as he still calls it—how much French he spoke. I would learn over the next ten years that the odd feeling of import that came over me was probably love at first sight. (You may all cringe now.) Since that summer, we've built an amazing life that goes with us wherever in the world we zig-zag to. I'll be forever grateful for those early days and the course they've set us on!