We met the way all modern love stories do—matching on a dating app—while Trent was 2,000 miles away in another country, and I was juggling work at home. Despite the distance and our crazy schedules (pilot life included), we talked for hours and somehow both just knew this was it—I was convinced within the first 24 hours I was going to marry him. Our first date attempt? A total aviation fail. He flew into Miami to meet me for dinner at my place that night, only to get called back to work and rerouted to Puerto Rico before he even left the airport (yes, I almost thought it was a very creative excuse not to eat my bad cooking). But two days later, he showed up at my door with roses, sushi, and full of excitement—and from that second chance on, our adventure truly took flight.

I always told Trent I wanted my proposal to be meaningful, and he gave me more than I ever dreamed. He took me to the Smoky Mountains—my second home—where my grandma grew up as a young child. My grandparents were such important people in my life. After getting the homestead coordinates from my dad, we hiked to find the exact spot where she once lived, uncovering pieces of history along the way—old mason jars, china, even clothing that may have belonged to my family. As we were about to leave, he said he found one more thing. I turned around to see him on one knee, holding a ring in the very place my grandma’s story began. “I know this place is part of your story,” he said, “but will you make it part of ours?” And just like that, our forever began.