What began as a friendship was made stronger by a mutual attraction and when we were both seventeen we began what you might call our “official relationship.” The relationship we entered into at this young age shaped the remainder of my life and resulted in yours. However, it was not an easy, uncomplicated path to the marriage. There were missteps along the way. There were disagreements and challenges. We went to different colleges, 150 miles apart, and for many years we went our separate ways. During this time we led our own lives, hardly ever seeing each other, but the bond that had been formed between your mom and I stayed with me always. Even when I refused to acknowledge it, it was there. It had been there since the night I asked your mom to prom. This, I believe, was a moment to make note of.

We were at Jonathan Dickinson State Park just north of Jupiter, Florida. Friends had reserved several campsites and thrown a big party in the woods. I knew your mom would be there with friends and planned to ask her as soon as I saw her, afraid that if I didn’t ask quickly, someone else would beat me to it. I was pacing under the tall pine trees, some distance from everyone else and concealed by the dark. I was nervous, sweaty, and kept rehearsing in my head what I might say. When I saw her friend’s car drive up, I suddenly couldn’t recall a single word of the proposal I was drafting, but I knew I it was now or never. There was more than one guy there that night who liked your mom. I had been strategic, mentioning to a few friends my intentions to ask your mom to prom, a way of staking my claim to her prior to officially asking. Despite this, I was aware there were no guarantees. Just knowing I wanted to take her to prom wasn’t necessarily going to keep some other guy from asking her first. And even if I were the first to ask her, I wasn’t totally confident she’d say “yes.” A couple of her friends had suggested she would, but that didn’t doesn’t necessarily mean it was true.  

As soon as I saw her step from the car, I approached. She was wearing jean shorts, white sneakers and a baggy t-shirt. Nearing her, I hesitated. Not because I was having second thoughts, but because it was then, in that moment of approach, that I realized how much I actually liked her. Standing in the moonlight that night, smiling shyly at me with her fingers stuffed in her pockets, your mother was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. Her friends had immediately scattered, leaving us alone. Slapping away mosquitos, we stood at the trunk of her friend’s car, making small talk underneath the stars. Behind us, at the campsite, a bonfire had been lit. Dozens of kids conversed and drank beer from plastic cups, laughing and cursing and egging one another on, but I my sole focus was your mom. At the forefront of my mind was “the ask.” How should I preface it? What’s my lead in?

Your mom seemed a little nervous, too. Even though I can’t remember what we talked about, I remember the awkwardness of it all. The disappearance of her friends. The sweat on my face. The bugs. She must know I am going to ask, I thought. And if she knows, why would she have let me corner her here at her friend’s car unless she was planning to accept? Why would she so patiently endure this senseless conversation if she wasn’t going to say “yes!” Eventually, I ran out of things to say, so during the next uncomfortable pause in the conversation I blurted out something along the lines of, “You wouldn’t want to go to prom with me, would you?” A confusing way to phrase a simple question. It didn’t allow her to give a simple “yes” or “no” answer. But it didn’t fluster her a bit. She replied, very sweetly, “I think that’d be a lot of fun.” Judging by her timidness and smile, I thought she might actually feel the same way about me that I did about her.

I have a friend who was fortunate enough to marry the love of his life. A girl he’d known since he was a teenager. They’ve now been married more than twenty years. Recently, he told me, “There’s nothing I could accomplish that would be more important to me than marrying D__. That’s it. Everything else is secondary.” When your mom agreed to go to the prom, something in me recognized the magnitude of the moment. Turns out the feeling I had that night was on the mark, as that uneasy and clumsy moment came to shape the remainder of my life. Since, there have only been a handful of moments as important — one being your mother’s teary-eyed “yes” when I asked her if should would marry me, and the other being the birth of each of you, our beautiful children.

A few minutes after our date was set, your mom climbed back into the car and left with her friends. I later learned that a girlfriend of hers had been in the trunk, hiding from a boy that was going to ask her to prom. Apparently, she had interest in someone else and did not want to have to hurt this boy’s feelings by turning him down, so she hid and had her friends tell the boy she wasn’t allowed to come to the party. Your mom’s friend had heard our entire conversation. As your mom tells it, driving away from the campsite she could hear her friend yelling from inside the trunk, “Woo-who! __ and __ are going to the prom!”