Some people meet on dating apps. Some meet through mutual friends. We met in the most romantic of all places — a youth summer camp run by the Wayne P.A.L. in the sweltering summer of 2004. Nothing says “destiny” like games of Kent, the North Cove, and refereeing Gaga games. We were just two teenagers with matching t-shirts and hearts full of hope. There was flirting. There were lingering glances. And yes, there was even one unforgettable kiss in a storage closet (romantic lighting provided by a flickering fluorescent bulb and old soccer balls). But alas, we went to different high schools, physically separated by the vast emotional canyon that was the Hills vs. Valley rivalry and Ratzer Road. Summer ended, and our camp counselor rom-com faded to black. Still, something was always there. We returned summer after summer, like moths to the campfire, forever circling each other but never quite landing. Thanks to AIM and early Facebook stalking, we kept digital tabs on one another. A “poke” here, a “like” there — we were basically 2000s-era soulmates in dial-up disguise. There was even a fateful night in Morristown at Sona 13 where we ran into each other again. Our memories of that night differ slightly, but one thing’s for sure: the universe was clearly trying to tell us something. Slowly. Very slowly. Fast forward a few years (okay, a lot of years), and somehow, somewhere between a fire emoji and a perfectly timed DM, we started talking again. And this time... it clicked. Like, "we should move in together and build a future" clicked. Mike’s condo was soon overrun with throw pillows, scented candles, and a closet he once had to himself, filled with an unmentionable number of shoes. He told his friends, “I’ve lost all control,” but he said it with a grin. We were in love. We had a plan. So naturally, life laughed (hard) and threw us a plot twist that would make any screenwriter jealous. On April 25, 2024, after three days of what I called “cramping” and Mike called “probably just a stomach bug,” we went to the hospital. Several exam rooms and one “SURPRISE! You’re in active labor” later, we were suddenly preparing to meet our daughter. Mike was tasked with calling our families, which he did in the tone of someone reporting a minor car accident and a miracle at the same time. And just like that, ready or not, we met the love of our lives: Charlotte. We were already in love with each other. We already knew we wanted a family someday. We just didn’t expect “someday” to be Thursday. But the best stories are the ones you never saw coming. On Charlee’s first birthday, Mike proposed — and this time, the surprise was planned. We still date each other. We still crack each other up. We work together daily in raising our child. And every day, we choose this life, this love, and this little family we accidentally-but-perfectly created. Charlotte wasn’t just a surprise — she was the start of our real love story. And now, we can’t wait to celebrate our future as The Peischls with you all.