We’re getting married. It’s happening.

We met in high school around a fire pit. It was a warm South Florida evening, but his friends and mine decided we’d light it anyway. We talked for hours that night. Later, he called me nervously and invited me to his junior prom. Young and naive, we had no idea at that point that we’d become soulmates. I knew that I wanted to go to prom, and he knew he didn’t want to show up date-less.

Josh planned a mini-vacation for us to Amelia Island off the coast of Jacksonville. Because vacations in medical school are usually mini. Rushing to the airport after our Pediatric Clerkship shelf exam, Josh said something like "we cannot miss this plane". At that point I thought something may be going on, and had prepared my nails just in case. Actually, I had been preparing my nails for every vacation we had taken in the past year JUST IN CASE, but that's besides the point. We stayed at the cutest Bed and Breakfast and things really started getting suspicious when Josh asked me to have a glass of champagne with him on our private patio before dinner that he had arranged at a quaint French restaurant in town. He started making a speech, but I was in denial, didn't think it was happening, and sort of cut him off, turning the spotlight back onto him and the traits that I valued in him. Switching tracks, Josh had a plan up his sleeve. He had asked the inn owner if she could take a couple of pictures of us in front of the property with the Spanish moss trees. She whipped out her camera and asked us if she could "take pictures for her website". I agreed but reminded Josh that I was getting pretty hungry... We stepped outside into the crisp sunset air and started shooting. Josh told me to take off my jean jacket, and when I came back from setting it beside a tree, he was down on one knee. The rest is a blur -- all I know is that my FitBit record shows distinct peri-proposal palpitations.