Born and raised in Ouray, a small town in Colorado, I always yearned for the bright light city life. Growing up in a town of only 900 people never interested me in the way it did my parents. Megan Parks and Steven Parks moved here after they realized New York wasn’t the lifestyle they wanted for me. However, at the age of fourteen, my dad got extremely sick and after two years, cancer finally beat him. Growing up in a tight knit family and an only child, I took his loss hard with only my mom to understand the pain I felt. Fast forward two years later, I graduated high school and had already received my acceptance letter to NYU. Leaving my mother behind scared me more than anything, so when I told her about my acceptance, we decided she would move to the Big Apple with me since nothing held her to our small town.

Seven years later, soaking in the beautiful clouds and strong winds, Nova jumped at the sudden ringing of her phone, a number she did not recognize danced across the screen. As she answered it a woman’s voice came through, “Ms. Parks?” in a confusion I replied, “yes this is she” the women continued. “Ms. Parks, we have your mother here, and she was in an accident. We believe it would be best for you to come in as soon as possible.” I sat in silence on the other end, frozen in shock. I could hear what she was saying, but none of what was being said. I drop my phone and get in the car and drive as fast as possible. When I get to the hospital, I run to the desk and ask, “Where can I find Megan parks?” While waiting as patiently as possible a reply with “Let me get a doctor for you”. While sitting in the waiting room my hands and legs are trembling in fear. A doctor in dark blue scrubs comes out with a face full of seriousness and continues the conversation with “would you like to take a seat?” So, I sit down slowly and then he tells me “We did everything we could, but her injuries were too severe. We couldn’t save her, and she died”. I couldn’t process this awful news, before I would remember anything after being told my mom passed away, I was in a gurney being examined by doctors. I was recommended to go to therapy to allow me to cope without having a panic attack; however, I was stubborn and decided that the recommendation was exaggerated so I went home within a couple of hours. I was still dealing with the news of my mother passing and had no one to go to like when my father passed away. Two weeks later I’m in the same hospital and can’t remember a thing. I decided to go to therapy, and I am with a man named Deion Smith. I know the name somewhere, but I can’t put anything together. Once I see who Deion is, I’m finally able to put the two connections together. Deion was the son of an old family friend. He was my crush when I was six, and when we moved, I never thought I would seen him again in my life. I go to therapy and talk to Deion, but he doesn’t seem to remember who I am, so I pretend to no remember him either. In therapy I was having a lot of trouble talking about my mother’s passing and I had difficulty talking about my personal life. Once the first session was over, I make a bizarre decision to not continue going to therapy since I felt it wasn’t going anywhere; however, when I get home, I realize that I forgot my purse. I call the office to see if it was still there, but Deion had already left, so the next morning, I am on the phone waiting to talk to someone at the desk when a lady asks, “How may I help you today this is the front office.” The lady on the phone asks “Yes, I called yesterday, and I was wondering if Deion Smith was in today?” I reply “No, he just left. Do you want me to leave a message?” she continues with, “no thank you,” and that’s the end of the call. A couple of days go by, and I am still not able to get in touch with Deion, but I see him at the coffee shop, and I go up to him and ask, “If he saw my purse in his office?” “Yes, I did I took it home to see if I would be able to see you, but you stopped coming to therapy, you can come grab it if you want” Deion stops talking and it is awkward until I continue the conversation with “perfect I can get it from there.”  So, Deion and I are walking through the trafficked sidewalks, we get to his apartment, and we are walking through these fancy white hallways with glass chandeliers. While Deion and I are talking, I have a moment where I get butterflies and my heart drops to my stomach, and he pulls my hair behind my ear, and we share a romantic kiss. Once that kiss is over, I pull myself away and he is looking at me with sparks in his eyes like the stars. I grab my purse, while I’m leaving, he hands me a purple sticky note with a number on it. I look at it with curiosity and he gives me a wink, and I bolt out the door. Two weeks pass by, and I haven’t seen Deion since we shared a kiss. I pull the sticky note out of my purse and decided that I will text Deion, and while waiting for a reply, my hands are like earthquakes, and I can’t seem to stop. I get a text back from Deion saying to meet him at his apartment and the rest has been history. We live together and are getting married in 3 months, and I have been head over heels about him. Deion and I have gone on many dates like floating lanterns, to the zoo, and fancy resturants almost every other week. There is always an adventure when I am with Deion. While we have many ups and downs, we have stuck together through thick and thin, and I never would’ve thought that I would be getting married after 3 years of being with Deion.