Where It All Started

Evening walk around Gig Harbor

As the Thanksgiving celebrations wound down—and the Christmas tree went up—Cory and I started planning our next time together. The endless flights back and forth had begun to feel like a burden. After years of doing it for work, I was still living out of a suitcase; in fact, I’m writing this from my hotel room in Manila. December would be my turn to pack a bag again, this time for a long weekend in Washington.

The reunion started with a familiar rhythm: picking each other up at the airport, laughing in the truck, and choosing to shelve the heavy conversations until the end of the trip. That’s our rule: we save the hardest talks for the day before goodbye, giving ourselves space to simply be together first. Meanwhile, our shared iPhone note kept growing—travel, meeting the kids, combining homes, work, Cory’s retirement. The list loomed, but so did our joy.

Washington gave us the perfect mix of ordinary and extraordinary. We took Fox everywhere—training runs in crowded places, stretching his legs at the beach, wandering trails at Olympic National Park. Cory showed me some of his favorite spots, we squeezed in Christmas shopping, and every morning began with his coffee. Let me tell you: I’ve traveled half the world and no café has matched Cory’s barista skills.

Fox's first time on a beach

The second-to-last day hovered. After one more walk through Cory’s neighborhood, we sat down to face the list. Our one non-negotiable rule carried us through: honesty above all, no sugarcoating, no protecting feelings at the cost of truth. He was on the cusp of Army retirement, caught in the endless cycle of waiting for the next step. I was anchored in Tennessee, established in my own rhythm with the girls.

Together, we mapped the way forward: Cory would finish his appointments, talk to his unit, pack up the truck, and head east. But first, he’d spend Christmas in Oklahoma with his family before coming to Tennessee the day after. That plan sparked a mix of relief and nerves. Would the girls accept him? Would our dogs coexist? Would the house feel too small? We’d find out soon enough.

Christmas 2024 was as chaotic as ever—Erin away at Ole Miss, Layla balancing her senior year and a birthday two days after Christmas. And tucked into the bustle was Cory, the newest gift on our family’s list. The girls’ first real conversation with him happened over the phone, standing in the aisles of Books-A-Million. “What kind of books does he like?” they asked. Fantasy, I told them—but the genre was so huge that they decided to go straight to the source. They called him, laughed with him, and started their own thread of connection.

"Dad watch me run... I'm so fast!"

That was the moment I felt it: this was no longer just about flights and weekends and iPhone notes. This was the beginning of blending homes, families, and lives. The questions swirled—what if it didn’t work, what if we clashed—but for the first time, it felt less like fear and more like possibility.

And so our story truly begins.