Our Story

Dear Ornela,

Do you ever wonder how different our lives might have been today? Do you ever wonder what would have happened if...

Three years ago in Boston - January 2012:

Instead of abandoning you and breaking your heart, I ask you to be my girlfriend. We spend all night talking and holding each other close until, in a moment of pure bliss, we fall into each other's arms and make love for the first time.

A week later I move out of my apartment in Birmingham and drive 1,200 miles north to begin our lives together in Boston. I can't stop smiling the whole drive.

You help me find an apartment not far from your home in Medford. It's small, but very close to you and that is all that matters to me. 

We see each other every other day, then every day. You spend more and more time at my apartment until one day I ask, "Ornela, would you like to move in together?" You smile, we kiss, and three days later all of our belongings are stuffed into a small apartment that has become our new home...our first home. It is the happiest either of us have ever been.

Weeks pass, then months. We grow closer every day until that summer when I invite you down to my family's lake house in Florida. We fly south. I seem nervous on the plane ride but you do not know why. One night, just as the sun is setting, I take you out on the dock where we gazed up at the stars all those years ago. You remark how beautiful the sunset is, but my attention is focused on a sight far more beautiful still. I look into your eyes and take your hands. I drop to one knee. A moment later I produce a ring and ask you to be mine forever. You cry. You say yes. 

Our parents are ecstatic. Our friends all congratulate us. We spend months planning the wedding back in our apartment in Boston. You find the perfect dress. I find the perfect tuxedo. But none of this matters. All that matters is that we are perfect for each other.

January 2013 - One year to the day after I asked you to be my girlfriend:

Our wedding day arrives, the most important in either of our lives. Your father walks you down the aisle that separates our two families. You look beautiful...so beautiful, and as we stand beside each other at the altar, before of all of our friends and family, we are both happier than we have ever been. The preacher asks his questions. "I do," you say. "I do," I repeat...and our lives together have begun.

We honeymoon in the Bahamas, though our destination is irrelevant as we don't leave the hotel bedroom throughout the trip. A week later we arrive back in Boston and begin looking for a larger apartment.

You schoolwork keeps you busy at Harvard. My job keeps me busy too, but we always find time for each other and make sure to talk about how we feel every day. Eventually we settle into a routine and find other married couples to socialize with. We're happy in Boston, and every day we fall more in love.

January 2014 - Two years to the day after I asked you to be my girlfriend:

You begin feeling ill in the morning. A few stomach pains, but nothing to worry about, just the flu perhaps. You go to the doctor and he discovers what is really going on. You call me and say we need to talk.

I rush home from work, frightened by what you have to tell me, but when I arrive at our apartment you kiss me and put your arms around my neck. You take my hand and put it on your stomach. "Are you ready to be a daddy?" you ask. I hug you, tighter than I ever have, and we both cry tears of joy.

We move into a house with a spare bedroom. We redecorate the room and purchase a crib and toys to welcome our new baby. One day, while painting the walls of the new bedroom, you seem worried. I ask you what's wrong. "Are we really ready for this Bobby? Are we really ready to be parents?" I hug you and kiss your forehead. "As long as we love each other, we are ready for anything." You smile and we hug each other tightly. I feel our child kick against your stomach.

September 2014 - Two years and nine months after I asked you to be my girlfriend:

I wake up early one morning to find you out of bed. The bathroom light is on and I walk in to make sure you are ok. You are standing in the bathtub holding your stomach. "Bobby, it's time," you say.

We rush to the hospital, scared but excited. The doctors hurry you to the delivery room while I run alongside the rolling hospital bed. You are holding my hand tight...I never let go.

I call your parents. I call my parents. All of them are on their way to be with us.

The hours pass. You are so strong...so brave. I wipe the perspiration from your forehead as the nurse says, "Just one more push" and a moment later I see the most beautiful sight my eyes have ever beheld. A child...our child. We have done it. This child is the truest expression of our love, and as the nurse hands you our baby, our family is finally born.

Today:

A new family lives in a three bedroom house in Boston. The neighbors see us pushing our baby in its stroller as we go for early evening walks around the neighborhood. Hand in hand we walk, our child asleep in its stroller as we stroll through the streets of Medford. After a few blocks we pass an old blue house on Metcalf Street that seems so familiar. I look at you and say, "Three years ago Ornela...three years ago I asked you to be mine in that house. Can you imagine how different our lives would have been if I had never asked?" You look at that old house, then at our child. "No, I can't imagine that," you say. "I can't imagine a life any happier than the one we have created."

We continue walking until the sun sets over the horizon on this brisk October night in Boston. A man, his wife, and their child...our family.

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This was a very difficult journal entry for me to write Ornela...perhaps the most difficult one I have ever written. Imagining how different our lives would have been if only I had asked you to be my girlfriend that last night we shared together three years ago has brought tears to my eyes. The story I just wrote is the life we should have had. It is the life I wanted more than anything. It is the life I walked away from and have regretted ever since.

The story I just wrote is not our story. It can never be. What has happened in the past is over and there is no going back to it. But I still have hope. I still have hope that there is another story, an even better story left to be written. I believe that the story we will actually write together will be different than the one you just read, but no less filled with love. We can't change the past Ornela, but from this moment forward we can write our future, a future that I want to share with you.

This is our second chance. This is our second chance to get things right. When I see you, I see my future. I see everything I just wrote about and so much more...I see our lives shared with each other in happiness and love. What do you see Ornela? Do you see late night talks together and private moments of intimacy where we share our bodies only with each other? Do you see wedding bells and children...do you see our family? We can write that story. It will be different than the one we originally envisioned, but still full of love for each other.

I love you Ornela, and I want to write the rest of our story together. Just as I did all those months ago when I gave you my pen to finish writing our fairytale, I am giving you the pen to write our real life story as well. When last you took this pen you wrote, "He got his wish!" but there is more to write this time. This is not about just me getting my wish...this is about us and our future together.

Won't you take the pen and keep writing our story? Won't you write the words, "We got our wish!"