There was nothing unusual about the day I received that phone call. Everyone sees this tall Filipino man and expects a petite wife latched to his arm. Although our appearance seems unique, our love story is what truly sets us apart.
It was October 9, 2010, and my daughter and I were chatting about meeting for lunch to catch up. It was summertime in the 70's in Lemoore, CA, and it was nearing an end.
I was sprinting down the tarmac to catch my plane, the captain and a flight attendant waving me to hurry up.
But then I stopped running, as though I slammed into an invisible wall.
I couldn't force myself to take one more step in that direction, so I turned around and ran back into the airport to call my sister.
The next day, back in Lemoore, we all went to a Navy picnic.
As I meandered throughout a sea of Filipino sailors, I stopped instantly when I saw the most beautiful sight—a tall, handsome man hopping out of a fire-engine-red Trans Am.
By the end of the afternoon, everyone piled into their cars, and I volunteered to drive a drunk Tony back to the base.
He began showering me with praise, and out of the blue, asked me to marry him.
With a chuckle I retorted, "If you can say that when you're sober, you've got a deal."One year later Tony did just that before heading off to Spain.
Knowing I may never have seen him again if I said no, I accepted.