A Story
Every couple has a story.
Ours starts in elementary school when a shy girl and and ornery boy were placed on the same maroon soccer team.
The girl hated soccer - too much running. The boy loved soccer - and scored all the goals (so he says).
Later in middle school, they would pass each other in the halls, crush on each others friends, see each other in different homeroom classes.
In high school, the girl had become less shy, the boy had long replaced soccer with basketball (and of course still scored many, many points). They had the same group of friends, and the school wasn't big, yet the same thing happened as it did in middle school.
They would pass each other in the halls, exchange pleasantries and go separate ways.
Until one summer, when the girl noticed the boy differently.
There were many nights of flirting, and talking and more flirting.
And a muddy road rescue when the girl got her dad's car stuck up to the doors trying to find the boy's farm house.
And there were many dates to dances, two graduations from Hiawatha High, football games, DU and Pi Phi date parties, walks to class, and finally two graduations from K-State.
After a year and a half of long-distance dating between Manhattan and Dallas, the boy and girl got married on September 13th, 2008.
And they moved to Wichita, and bought a house and got a dog.
And three years later, the girl gave the boy a card on the night of their anniversary that originally said this:
Our is an amazing love story...
with the happiest ever after.
Happy anniversary to the one I love.
But then she added this:
Andrew, I love you more every year that we are married. This next year will be especially significant when you become a father in nine months! Thanks for always making me the happiest girl in the world. I love you. Happy third anniversary.
Love,
Ali
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