I’ll never forget the morning I first laid eyes on him. Five years and three months ago it was.  I wore black Nine West pumps, my favorite pair of dark Express Jeans, and a black scoop-neck, three quarter length sleeved sweater.

It was our first date. A blind date. We agreed to meet for breakfast at the Altitude Restaurant at the Hyatt Regency in downtown Denver. 10am on the 10th day of the 10th month. I remember being so overwhelmed that morning and nervous, of course.  I remember my hands nearly too shaky to hold a round brush and blow dry my hair. I’m pretty sure I was running late, naturally, so valet parking was in order. I’ll never forget pulling into the hotel’s entrance and stepping out of my then silver Pontiac Sunfire. I’d never been to the Hyatt Regency before, but was looking forward to a classy brunch date atop the Hyatt “overlooking the city,” as John promised.

I remember walking in through the revolving doors into the expansive hotel lobby and being overwhelmed with blurs of people swarming by. But across the distance, standing up against a large beam, I spotted a man in a casual black, North Face, fleece jacket with one hand his is faded blue-jean pocked and the othe scrolling through his iPhone.

Within seconds, as if we were a tried and true couple, he sensed my stare from across the lobby, looked up from his iPhone and met my gaze. And then he smiled that smile — that crooked, closed-mouth smile that’s come to make me melt.  As I approached him, he settled into his stance and greeting me with a nervous chuckle and a surprisingly deep voice,

“So apparently the Altitude Restaurant is actually on the ground floor.”

And the rest is history, as they say…

Five years and two months later he took me back to that spot.

You see, I thought we were all dolled up to go to the Nutcracker. Or the One Republic concert. Either of which I was convinced was the spot John was to ask me to spend forever with him.

But alas, we sadly drove right by the Ogden Theater prominently displaying One Republic in lights. At that point, I knew we were on our way to the Nutcracker, and if we weren’t, John sweetly played along with my assumptions.  As we continued down Colfax Avenue, John asked, “Why don’t we stop by our hotel and grab a bite to eat since we skipped dinner [due to my outrageous nerves!]?”   Thinking I could use a bite to eat by this point in the day, I agreed, not giving much thought to the significance of the pit stop location, but rather the convenience.  He continued, “After all, it is right next door to the the theater. We can just walk over to the Nutcracker.”

After a few more turns we parked in a next-door parking lot. Hand-in-hand, shivering from the bitter winter air, we crossed 15th Street and entered in through the same revolving doors I once walked through many years before.

As my heels clicked and clacked on the tile floor, John led me across the barren hotel lobby. Only a few hotel guests lurked around, most of which were enjoying beverages at the hotel bar across the room. Pulling me in close, we were all of the sudden  in our spot.

The spot. The spot where it all began.

The spot where it was made final.

And as for the proposal? Well, you can see that in the video below. The words are ours to cherish, but the sight is one to share. It’s the least I can do after the privilege of sharing in so many incredibly, intimate, and special moments of yours. Enjoy my dear friends. Thank you for rooting of us all these years. You are treasured more than you know.