Thirteen years ago today, I met Elaine.

I was on an eighteen-day cruise up the coast of Brazil with a transatlantic passage that would make port in Morocco, Portugal, and Italy.

It did not start well. My first dinner partner on the Costa Pacifica was named Diego. He was a recently graduated lawyer from Buenos Aires who spoke two words of English: “American Express.” As I spoke fewer words in Spanish than he did in English, we did not engage in the delightful shipboard banter I had hoped would accompany my cruise.

For the next two nights, I ate by myself at the pizza buffet. It was lonely, pathetic, and I realized that if I did not change my strategy, I would have a miserable three weeks. I went to the Maître D’ and asked to be seated at a new table where someone spoke English. He was not encouraging. There were few English speakers on board, and most were already sitting together. He could put me at a table with Brazilian lawyers who, while he did not know if they spoke English, might. Would that be okay? I said, “Please.”

I dressed carefully that evening and arrived at the dining room as it opened for the 8 p.m. seating. I was seated and welcomed by three empty chairs. Oh well, I thought, it is early. Five minutes passed, and the dining room began to fill. The seats opposite me remained empty. Ten minutes passed—the dining room was now half full. The chairs opposite me: still vacant. Fifteen minutes passed—the dining room was now full, and of course, the chairs at my table were unoccupied.

Feeling like a loser and resigned to loneliness, I ordered a double vodka martini and prepared myself for an evening of intensive olive therapy. Just as I was dipping my beak into my drink, two women, a redhead and a blonde, took the seats opposite me. They greeted me in Portuguese, then in English, and apologized for being late as they had been detained taking photographs. I was so relieved to be able to speak to someone that I was tongue-tied. They told me that shortly, we would be joined by the third member of their party, who was still having her photograph taken.

I managed to croak out only an “Oh” before the redhead said, “Here comes my sister,” and pointed to a woman making her way to the table. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed as if every spotlight in the restaurant was pointed at this glorious-looking woman with a gigawatt smile who, while making her way to our table, was shaking everyone’s hand as if she were the mayor of the ship.

I stood to greet her, and she introduced herself. The ringing in my ears was too loud, and I could not make out what she said. So, I said, “Pardon me?” And she said, “My name is Elaine.”

Nine months later, we were engaged. Sixteen months later, we were married.

In honor of the thirteenth anniversary of our meeting, it might be a good time to reflect and comment on what I have learned on this journey with Elaine.

First among the things I have learned is gratitude.

There are approximately 200 billion stars in the Milky Way Galaxy. Perhaps 6 billion have the potential for life. In the 13.6 billion years the galaxy existed, I happened to be alive at 0.00000053% of that time. Meeting Elaine on a boat where 0.000025% of Earth’s population happened to means that our meeting was extraordinarily unlikely by any statistic you could possibly imagine. Considering those odds, I am grateful to the universe and whatever higher power runs it for allowing us to meet and fall in love.

I am grateful that we live in a time when people from different continents can meet, fall in love, get married, and build a real life together on two continents. I am grateful she laughs at most of my jokes and that, despite being a cat person, she has fallen in love with our puppies.

She has taught me how to hold hands. I know—most of us learn how to do that at a much earlier age, and so did I. But I lost the habit as I grew older. Holding hands, I thought, was for teenagers and young love. But in Brazil, no matter your age or stage of decrepitude, you hold hands. We hold hands wherever we go, and I have come to understand that it is a symbol of our connection. It turns two into one and reminds me every day that, through thick or thin, we are in this together. To quote the bard of New Jersey, “We swore we’d travel, darlin’, side by side. We’d help each other stay in stride.”

She has also taught me to walk slowly. Brazilians walk far more slowly than us gringos. And when we walk together, holding hands, she reminds me in her soft Brazilian lilt to slow down. And when I do,  I realize that my hurry was often for no reason at all. It was merely an excuse to check something off my to-do list faster. Slowing down, especially when I am here in Brazil and with her, allows me to take stock of the beauty around me and beside me. It gives me time to be grateful for where I am and whom I am with.

I am grateful for the perspective that Elaine provides. Unsurprisingly, we occasionally don’t see eye to eye on a subject. That is inevitable as we come from different countries and very different backgrounds. And my wife is an extremely smart, passionate woman who holds onto her well-thought-out opinions and feelings in the same way a miser might hold onto their wallet. Ninety-five percent of the time, we agree. I have been known to be stubborn in my beliefs as well. As a consequence, there are some subjects and issues on which we don’t agree and likely never will. Time and Elaine have taught me that embracing the fact that we have different opinions and allowing those differences to provide perspective, not dissonance, gives me a better understanding of an issue. It is a net positive—even if we cannot agree.

But above all, what I am most grateful for is Elaine. The miracle of our meeting gives me hope that, even when the world seems its darkest, dawn is not far off. Considering our world today, that is an awesome thing.