869-6563.

That was my number. The first one I ever had, and the one I gave him when I was 17. I can still see the ripped napkin I scribbled it on, inside a dimly lit, 20-and-under dance club. The music was loud, his smile louder, and my heart beating faster than “Come Go With Me” by Exposé.

Over the years, our numbers changed, and life happened. Some connections don’t fade. They wait.

People come in and out of our lives. Some stay for a season, others for a reason, and then, if you’re really lucky, some find their way back at exactly the right time.

They say if you love something, let it go. And if it’s meant to be, it will come back to you.

And here we are.

This life would not be the same without us choosing again. Without this return. Without this love.

We are so grateful we don’t have to wonder or wish anymore. We just get to be here, together.

And that… is everything.