I had this boyfriend in high school who figured that because my parents did well and I never wanted for things that the only way to show me how he felt was to buy me lots of stuff. We were in high school, mind you, so the jewelery and roses he bought me were a tad outside his budget. And not to be mean, but I don’t think it takes a lot of creativity to buy a girl red roses—it’s like the default flower purchase.

I mentioned to him once that I would prefer a few picked wildflowers over roses, that I thought it was more romantic and thoughtful than going to the flower shop and picking out a rose with baby’s breath. So what did he do? He showed up with a cooler full of pilfered daffodils, about 30 in all. Heaven knows where he got so many, but he completely missed the point. He just didn’t seem to get it.

Fast forward to my senior year of college…

Eric and I had been dating for three weeks when I went home for Thanksgiving. I let him borrow my car for the week so he could drop me off and pick me up at the airport. On Sunday night, he showed up at the airport with a few freshly picked wildflowers, their stems wrapped in a wet paper towel to keep them fresh. I knew then that I had someone special, someone who valued the same small gestures as I did.

This photo was taken shortly after I moved down to Georgia—about a week before our two year anniversary. He asked me to marry him just four months later.

I, of course, said yes.