A boy, a girl, and a motorcycle

There he was standing outside my apartment door. I had just-showered-wet-hair and was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. It was finals week at BYU. A stress filled week and we both just needed a break to get away that night. Where we were going...I didn't know...or care for that fact. As we walked down my apartment steps I saw the motorcyle.

"New ride?" I asked.

"Yep. Let's go." John said.

Then I hopped on and we started driving east and up the dirt path to "Y" mountain. Then up on a spot next to the "Y" mountain we sat to look at the view of all the lights of the city.

He professed his love to me and mine to him. 

There was a rock was digging in my back. John helped me remove it. Hmm..not a rock; a stratigecally placed box. Not any box...a ring box.

A kiss.     A ring.    Another kiss or two.

We were married in the Mesa temple three months later.

That motorcycle followed us in our adventure to Florida and has been decorating our garage ever since. John pulled it out the other night to take the boys on a spin down the street.  

I told Austin that daddy asked mommy to marry him on the motorcycle a long time of go. His eyes got all big and he let out a giddy laugh. He's a little obsessed about the idea of marriage ever since I let him watch Sleeping Beauty.

So much has changed since that April night.

Now instead of a boy, a man.
Instead of a girl, dare I say woman?!
and 3 little monkeys hanging off the motorcycle.