We met at a city-wide revival—two small-town kids from rural Oklahoma with no idea how deeply our lives would intertwine. On her 15th birthday, I asked Mary Ann to be my girlfriend. A few months later, I told her I loved her. That love has never stopped growing—just changing shape, getting weirder, deeper, stronger.
In the '90s, we were teenagers riding around backroads in my green Camaro—green because it was her favorite color. In 2000, we got married. Still kids, really, trying to figure out adulthood one small step at a time. First jobs. First apartments. Learning how to love each other through the static and swirl of real life.
We moved to Colorado in the early 2000s. That’s where we really started growing—not just as individuals, but as a couple. Mary Ann worked while earning her master’s degree. I struggled to interface with the world in a way that made sense. And yet she held me—steady, supportive, soft-edged. She taught while I became Asst. Dean of Admissions at Naropa, then later opened an antique and gift shop. I never succeeded in the ways the world tends to reward, but I always felt supported. Seen. Grounded. I wouldn’t still be here without her.
We had planned to be DINKs—dual income, no kids. But one day, I saw her eyes sparkle as she told me a lifelong friend was pregnant. And in that moment, I saw our future shift. That twinkle said everything. That’s when our marriage—and our lives—took their most beautiful turn yet: Jettie Jane.
Looking back now, I realize how much she’s carried. She is brilliant, hardworking, endlessly capable. She’s also married to an overthinking weirdo who wears the same thing every day and has spent years spiraling through questions like whether free will exists, whether consciousness is real, whether any of this matters. She’s stood beside all of that—and me—without flinching.
She has shaped me in ways I’m still discovering. Her presence has taught me how to endure, how to stay soft, how to love through the mess. I am more whole because of her.
She is my everything.
And today, on our 25th wedding anniversary, I want her—and anyone who reads this—to know:
I choose her. Every day.
I love her more fiercely now than I did in that green Camaro.
And I will spend the rest of my life loving her with everything I’ve got.