It was fall of my junior year and my roommates and I had made a conscious decision to take Halloween really seriously. We talked about our costumes and made plans and spent hours at the gym because it was college and the plans and costumes involved crop tops and short skirts.

2008 was the year of Lady Gaga, and we must have listened to "Just Dance" eight times while we got ready. Raquel was a baseball player, I was a sailor, and Michele was, well, Lady Gaga. We headed to a high school friend's dorm suite at Hampden-Sydney, where there was a good mix of friends old and new; and one of those coolers with a spout, full of something we all still refer to fondly as "Black Drank."

He was friendly, but quiet, and at first I didn't realize that he was tall because he was already seated when we arrived. I took the empty seat next to him and barely even remember our first words to one another. I'm sure I forgot his name immediately, because I'm horrible with names, but I do remember proudly (and oddly) boasting that I knew exactly what cologne he was wearing. Aqua di Gio by Giorgio Armani remains one of my favorite scents to this day.

We began a natural but cautious friendship before realizing a few months later that we were dating. Life with Rob felt magical because I never knew him and then, suddenly, I met him and in the very best way, it felt as though he had always been there.

Amid the Halloween chaos of Black Drank and endless games of Quarters, someone snapped a photo of me and my husband from across the table.

Happy Halloween.

Every morning I stand in the kitchen, watching my husband have breakfast at the bar. It sounds so silly, but it's one of the times every day when I really feel like a wife. We aren't much into traditional gender roles, but because I work from home, sometimes it feels like it might look like we do. Either way, making him a cup of coffee while he gets ready for work in the morning makes me smile, whether it screams "housewife" or not.

We've only been married for four months. But even after living together for several years, there are old things that somehow now feel new. I think it's the move from Minneapolis to Charlotte more than the marriage, though, because I didn't really feel this way in Minnesota. Making our bed. Eating dinner together on the couch. Waking up on a Saturday and vowing to do absolutely nothing all day.

And then there are the new things that will still feel new for months. Referring to Rob as my husband, or his parents as my in-laws. Taking the train to meet him for lunch in the city. Driving instead of flying to visit a friend in another city. Writing "Megan Peterson" on anything. After we moved, we finally unpacked our wedding gifts, so this apartment feels like the first place we've lived since the wedding. New plates, new glasses, new pots and pans, a new life together.

Fall is on its way and I'm always amazed at how nostalgia just floods my heart and brings me right back to high school or college or whatever I was doing the previous year. And every year, I pick up a few new experiences and add them to the emotional album that is my life. Last year we were planning a wedding, visiting Virginia for engagement photos and a party, missing fall while we felt winter slowly but surely descend upon Minneapolis. We turned an unfamiliar place into our home, and as I find myself missing it so much this year, I can't help but think about where I will be next year--hopefully feeling settled and at home here in North Carolina.

A lot can happen in a year.

Today is my sweet, smart, funny, and all-around pretty awesome husband's birthday.

Rob supports me in everything I do, makes me laugh until my stomach hurts, and knows me better than anyone else. I love him so much and I feel overwhelmingly lucky and blessed to be his wife.

Happy birthday, Rob! I carry your heart with me.

Photo (from our engagement shoot) by V.A. Photography.