It’s an early morning in January, and I’m sitting in front of my fireplace, drinking a warm mug filled with hot chocolate and toasted marshmallows, thinking about how wonderful the winter months are. Snowflakes are falling outside, the Christmas festivities are over, and the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies in the oven awaits me; as I walk into my kitchen, I see my husband, Clark, waiting in the kitchen for me, along with our cat, Mittens. I often think about how lucky I am to have such a wonderful man in my life, but it wasn’t always that way.

In college, I was very quiet, and I didn’t speak to many people, but one day, when I was eating my lunch alone in the library, Clark decided to sit down at the table across from me so he could read. Little did I know then that he wanted to get to know me because he thought I was cute.

As I stood in the kitchen, watching Clark humming along to the Frank Sinatra album that was playing softly on our stereo in the background, I couldn’t help but smile because of how lucky I am. At that moment, the memory of our first meeting came rushing back, vivid and clear.

Back then, I was too shy to look him in the eyes, barely able to say “hello” when he first introduced himself to me. But his warmth and kindness slowly coaxed me out of my shell. Every day, he’d find an excuse to sit near me, encouraging me to share little stories or anecdotes about myself. He never rushed me while I was speaking or made me uncomfortable.

And now, here we are, years later, with our own home, our cat Mittens, and the life we built together. I walked over to Clark, wrapping my arms around him, breathing in the smell of cookies and hot chocolate. Life wasn’t perfect, but with him, it was more beautiful than I’d ever imagined it could be.

Clark turned, chuckling as he wrapped his arms around me. “Norah, I caught you in one of those sentimental moods again, didn’t I?” he teased, brushing a stray lock of my brown hair from my face.

“I was just thinking about how much our lives have changed since we first met,” I replied, my voice soft with gratitude.

Clark squeezed my shoulders and gave me a wink. “You know, I was a bit shy back then, too,” he admitted. “But seeing you sitting in the library, looking so lost in thought, I knew I had to try speaking to you. I didn’t know where it would lead me, but speaking to you at that moment felt right.”

I laughed, surprised. “You were shy? I never would have guessed that because you always seemed so confident.”

He shrugged, laughing too. “Maybe I was just a good actor,” he said. “Or maybe I just knew you were worth it.”

The timer on the oven dinged, breaking our conversation, and Clark carefully pulled out the tray of cookies. He set them on the counter to cool, the aroma filling the kitchen, while Mittens wove between our legs, purring for attention.

As Clark offered me a cookie, still warm, he held my gaze. “Here’s to us,” he said softly, lifting his cookie in a small, sweet toast.

“To us,” I replied, clinking my cookie to his and savoring the warmth and sweetness of that moment, knowing that—much like the cookies we shared, the best things in life are the moments we spend together.

This was written by our editor-in-chief and co-founder, Hanna Perry.