You will never forget the day he told you there would be a surprise trip, and how, in the end, it would pale in comparison to the way you felt when you learned the surprise. Because to be mysteriously whisked away is one thing; but to have your dreams fulfilled by one who made sure he was listening to them, well, that's another thing entirely.

You will see the Northern Lights--three nights!--and they will be as allusive to description as they are to documentation. So you will stare at the sky until your neck hurts, willing your mind to at least commit the sight to memory. And you'll think, maybe it's okay to not be able to share such a phenomenon. Maybe these are the sorts of things a Creator leaves as love notes to those who seek and find them.

You'll giggle as you struggle to pronounce the names of regions and towns and landmarks that he'd been studying for months. You'll marvel at how he is so at ease, wherever he goes, yet how that does not stop him from being awestruck like a child. You'll watch him share in this wonder with your children.

You'll be happily reminded at the strange warmth of Europeans, quickly turning strangers into friends, and curiously, graciously, settling into all the homey parts of such a special place. You'll be exposed to new art and indescribable scenery and even local recipes--which he cooks in the cozy cabin by the sea that he booked for you.

You'll feel reenergized seeing the world, reminded of what it does to you to get out and go and do and explore. But you'll also realize how at home you'll feel, and you'll know that has nothing to do with the adventure girl you once were, and everything to do with the pack you move in and how they are always your home, wherever you are.