Our love story began Labor Day weekend of 2013 on the Eagle River at Climbing Rock, and the punchline is that “my mom caught the fish, and I caught the guide.” I lived in Washington, DC at the time and joined my mom, dad, grandmother (all from Texas), and a DC friend for my family’s annual summer trip to Beaver Creek. As my friend and I were strolling through the village on a perfect mountain summer day, I made the comment that my soul belonged in Colorado.  

My mom decided that she would like to learn how to fly fish this trip, and so the serendipitous reservation was made. Brandon was assigned as our guide and read that a mother and daughter would be fishing with a grandmother tagging along to take pictures. When my mom and her adult daughter showed up, Brandon looked at the child-sized waders he pulled for the trip and realized that he misinterpreted the age of the clients. My grandmother chose not to join us that morning. On our way to the river, we stopped and grabbed adult waders for me, being in my 30s, not teens.

As we’re standing in the river being taught how to cast, Brandon quickly learned that my mom and I are slightly stubborn and strong-willed. The versions of the conversations between my mom and Brandon differ, but the common thread, from my perspective, is that each was interviewing the other. I was out of earshot and did not hear the discussions, but I’m sure they went something like: 

Mom – Do you have kids? 

Brandon – Do you have grandkids? 

Mom – Do you have a girlfriend? 

Brandon – Does your daughter have a boyfriend? 

The one thing Brandon made clear to me that morning was that usually women listen to him and pick up techniques more easily than men but I was an outlier to that standard. I did not catch any fish but enjoyed standing in the river admiring the surrounding beauty.

My mom on the other hand netted one fish and her reward was to be tiramisù from Toscanini where Brandon worked at the time. Unbeknownst to me, my mom texted multiple friends that day informing them that she had met her son-in-law. She also started crying that God had answered her prayers. She did not mention this to me until we were well into dating because kids have a funny way of defying their parents for no real reason, and she didn’t want to sway my opinion.

As Brandon began his shift later that same day, my dad, mom, and I walked in and sat down to chat and collect on his promise of my mom’s dessert. Brandon did not know she does not like tiramisu; he knows this now. Brandon and I got together multiple times over the holiday weekend, with our first date at the Swiss Chalet. The following day, I headed back to DC and our long-distance relationship began. 

Over the next year and a half, we traveled between Colorado, DC, and destinations around the country to spend time with each other until one day I made the statement that I was moving to the mountains in 2014. This occurred at a nice steakhouse in Seattle where I proceeded to cry and the server thought Brandon was the cause, which got a little awkward but was eventually resolved.  

Brandon proposed outside of Mendoza, Argentina, during what was described as a fly fishing outing but was really an adventure to a creek on someone’s farm. We celebrated with a lovely lunch facing the Andes Mountains and then continued our journey to Buenos Aires.

On July 16, 2016, we got married at the Beaver Creek Chapel surrounded by family and friends, with an undeniably large Texas presence. Our wedding weekend opened many of our guests’ eyes to the beauty of the Vail Valley and why we choose to live here. Throughout the years we’ve seen our friends visit to share our love of this special place. Brandon and I moved to Singletree in September of 2019 and welcomed Shelby, our dog, in January 2020.  You can find all three of us on the river fly fishing and enjoying our Colorado mountain life.

When I think back to that fateful weekend in 2013, and my comments to my friend and my mom’s prayers, it turns out that sometimes you get what you ask for.