Anchored in Love:

45 Years of Tides, Adventures, and Prince Charming

Some love stories begin with a sunset.

Forty-five years. If you laid them end to end like seashells on a shore, you’d have a collection so long and so varied you couldn’t take it all in at once. Some shells are perfect and smooth, polished by years of gentle tides. Others are rough around the edges, cracked by storms you didn’t see coming. But every single one of them is part of the collection. Every single one is ours.

When I found my Prince Charming, I didn’t just find a man. I found a harbor.

The Catch

They say the ocean has a way of bringing the right things to shore at exactly the right time. That’s how I think about the day I met him—like the tide had simply decided it was time and delivered him to me.

He came with all the things a girl could hope for: a good heart, a great sense of humor, and a family that felt like warm sand beneath your feet—solid, welcoming, and exactly where you wanted to be. His family wrapped around me like a favorite beach town you visit once and immediately want to call home. I knew early on that this was not just a man I was falling for. This was a whole world I was stepping into, and the water was just fine.

We said yes to each other, and then we said yes to everything that came with it—the adventure, the unknown, the beautiful, unpredictable voyage ahead.

Where We Planted Our Anchor

The beach was never just a place for us. It was a way of life.

For 21 years, we lived at the beach. Not vacationed. Not visited. Lived. We woke up to the sound of waves. We fell asleep to the rhythm of the tide. Salt air was the scent of home, and the horizon was our daily reminder that the world was bigger and more beautiful than any problem we’d ever faced.

When life got heavy—and life always gets heavy sometimes—we went to the water. We’d walk to the shore, stand at the edge of something ancient and enormous, and just breath. The ocean has a way of making your problems feel appropriately sized. All that power, all that beauty, crashing and pulling without apology—it puts everything back in perspective. We solved a thousand quiet things standing at the edge of the sea.

Our two children grew up with sand between their toes and salt in their hair. They didn’t just visit the beach—they were shaped by it. They learned early what it means to respect something bigger than yourself, to read the water before you dive in, and to know that even the roughest waves eventually find the shore.

Assateague Island and the Wild, Beautiful Life

If you’ve never stood on Assateague Island while wild ponies wander the dunes and the Atlantic stretches out before you like an endless possibility—add it to your list. We did more than add it to the list. We soaked in its sun, collected its memories, and left a little piece of our hearts in its sand every single time.

Getting a suntan on Assateague wasn’t just a vacation moment. It was a ceremony. A reminder that we were alive and together and lucky enough to know it.

We had a boat. Of course we had a boat. Because when you love the water the way we do, you don’t just want to stand at its edge—you want to be in it, on it, moving through it with the wind doing exactly what it pleases. We had adventures out on the water that no photograph fully captures. The kind of stories that live in the body, in the laugh lines, in the way your eyes light up when someone says—remember that time—

And our black Labs. Oh, our beautiful black Labs. If there is a creature on this earth who understands the joy of a life lived near water, it is a Labrador Retriever bounding into the surf without a single hesitation, entirely certain that this moment is the best moment that has ever existed. They were not just pets. They were fellow adventurers, enthusiastic crew members, and daily reminders to throw yourself into life headfirst—preferably toward something that involves waves.

Tampa, the Gulf, and the Tides That Followed Us

The beach followed us even when we moved.

When we came to Tampa, the Gulf of Mexico was right across the street. We walked to it. Just like that, we laced up our shoes, stepped out the front door, and there it was. That warm, calm, impossibly turquoise water is waiting like an old friend who never makes you feel like you’ve been gone too long.

The Gulf is different from the Atlantic. Quieter. More still. Like the ocean learned to exhale. We walked its shores through all the seasons of our life here, watching the water change colors with the light and the hour, collecting sunsets the way some people collect stamps—obsessively, gratefully, always wanting just one more.

We have vacationed at beach locations our whole marriage because some compasses only point one direction. The water has always been our true north.

What the Ocean Taught Us About Love

Forty-five years of marriage is not a calm sea. Anyone who tells you otherwise is either very new to it or not paying attention. There are storms. There are stretches of gray. There are moments when the current pulls you in different directions and you must swim hard just to find each other again.

But here is what the ocean taught us: the tide always comes back. Every single time it goes out, it comes back. You can count on it the way you count on very few things in this life.

My Prince Charming is my tide. Steady. Reliable. A little unpredictable sometimes, if I’m honest—but always, always coming back. Always finding the shore.

We were so blessed. That word doesn’t feel big enough, but it’s the truest one I have. Blessed to have found each other. Blessed to have raised two children at the edge of something magnificent. Blessed to have had the Labs, the boat, the island, the lifeguard stands, the sunsets, the storms we weathered together, and the long quiet walks where we didn’t need to say much because the water was saying everything anyway.

Still Sailing

Forty-five years in, and we are still out here. Still finding our way to the water. Still standing at the edge of the ocean and breathing it all in. Still grateful. Still in love. Still blessed beyond what we deserve.

The best love stories don’t end on the shore. They keep sailing.

Here’s to the tides that brought us together, the storms that made us stronger, the waves we rode just for the thrill of it, and the many, many more adventures still waiting out there on the horizon.

The water is warm. The sky is wide. And I am exactly where I am supposed to be—sitting next to my Prince Charming, watching the light dance on the Gulf, and thinking:

We really did get it right.

To 45 years, and to every beautiful wave still to come.