Years of work, practice, striving, and singing passed. Our résumés grew with our pursuits, and high notes got higher. We continued to cook together, explore food, and grow our commitment, solidifying what we’d both known very early on. We were married on a soggy August day under soaring poplars in a simple ceremony, which wove together pieces of our histories and families. Mama was there, singing a lullaby from my childhood; Julie’s parents read from prepared texts; and my father, speaking off the cuff, offered his heartfelt welcome to the union of our families and his neck-breaking embrace.

Eventually, signs suggested that a move to the East Coast was necessary for our careers. It was a long time in the making but we eventually leaped again with no jobs and no savings and departed in December, waving good-bye to nude beaches, the crush of fog banks on coastal ranges, sunburned Steinbeck hills, and the scent of eucalyptus.