Michael first saw Alisa in the 10th grade at a Young Black Scholars event. He remembers thinking she was far too pretty to be smart enough to have gotten into YBS—and, being a little insecure about the fact that she was taller than him at the time, he did something very unlike himself: he said nothing.

Two years later, on November 10, 1989, their paths crossed again.

It was senior year, at a rivalry football game. Michael, part of a yell fraternity, had made his way over to the opposing side to rally the crowd. From the stands, Alisa noticed him—not simply because he was loud enough to be noticed, but because there seemed to be an aura of joy and confidence around him.

At the time, joy was something Alisa desperately needed. She was moving through grief after losing a beloved aunt and cousin in a tragic accident.

Something about Michael's spirit drew her in. She called him up into the stands, they exchanged numbers, and from that night forward, they were nearly inseparable for the rest of senior year.

Their families became part of their young love story, too. Alisa's mother, Dora, loved Michael. He would often stop by while Alisa was still at work at the Girls Club and sit talking with her mother until she came home. Michael's father, Clyde, liked Alisa for his son as well—even if she did get a little nervous whenever he answered the phone.

The parents approved of the relationship. What remains unclear, all these years later, is whether they fully realized that Michael somehow managed to join Alisa for all of her senior activities—including an overnight ski trip and a weeklong senior trip to Mexico.

Some questions are probably best left unanswered.

Their teenage love was serious.

At some point, Michael asked Alisa to marry him. He even bought a ring.

Dora understood that they loved one another, but she also believed they were simply too young. She worried that if Alisa married at 18, she might not finish college.

And so, sometime during the first weeks of August 1990, Michael and Alisa said goodbye as they prepared to leave California and begin the next chapters of their lives. Michael headed to Morehouse College in Atlanta; Alisa to Xavier University in New Orleans.

They decided to "break up" so each could fully experience college.

They tried to call one another during those first few weeks. But this was 1990—before cell phones, text messages, FaceTime, and social media. There was a payphone on the dorm floor, shared by everyone. After a few attempts at calling, being left on hold while payable minutes ticked away, only to eventually hear, "They're not here," life began pulling them forward.

And somehow, 33 years passed.

And Then, There You Were

In December 2023, Michael reached out to Alisa through Instagram.

At first, she didn't know who was messaging her. But the words contained intimate details of high school memories that felt too familiar to ignore. She accepted the message.

And then she saw who it was.

Michael.

Alisa exhaled.

Her heart softened in a way it had not in years, and tears came to her eyes.

Before anything romantic even entered her mind, there was one overwhelming feeling:

My friend is back.

A lifetime had happened since they last knew one another. There had been love and loss, children and family, careers and responsibilities, triumphs and disappointments. Alisa had lost her beloved mother, Dora. She had traveled the world. She had survived breast cancer. Both had lived full lives that neither of those teenagers sitting together in 1989 could possibly have imagined.

Yet somehow, talking with Michael allowed feelings Alisa had held close to her chest for years to loosen. In their place came something wonderfully familiar.

Joy.

On New Year's Eve, as Alisa headed to a city celebration, the two messaged back and forth. When the event ended and she returned to her car, Michael's was the first message waiting for her:

Happy New Year.

There were 33 years to catch up on, and Instagram messages were never going to be enough.

So Alisa suggested lunch.

They met at an Ethiopian restaurant on Fairfax and talked for more than four hours.

Alisa was smitten all over again.

There was just one problem: she wasn't entirely sure of Michael's marital status.

So although she desperately wanted to reach across

the table and hold his hands as they talked, she kept hers safely tucked in her lap beneath the table for nearly the entire afternoon—except, of course, when she needed them to eat.

Somewhere in those four hours, however, something old and something new began finding one another.

And once again, even as Michael was navigating an incredible personal transition, the two became inseparable.

Being together simply came naturally.

Perhaps that was because, long before they understood the language for it, they had already been a safe place for one another. A kind of home within the world.

Now in their 50s, they often laugh remembering themselves as teenagers, sitting in Michael's driveway in Alisa's Honda Accord—venting about high school life, sharing dreams, and planning futures they could not yet see.

Decades later, they found themselves doing much the same thing.

Only now, they had stories to tell.

The Love That Came Back Home

Their reunion was not about pretending that 33 years had not happened. It was about honoring that they had.

Through therapy, spiritual counseling, honest family conversations, and a willingness to face both the beauty and complexity of beginning again, Michael and Alisa came to understand something:

Perhaps they were meant to find one another in this half of life.

Since reconnecting, they have woven their lives together through friendships and family, trips to Hawaii, New Mexico, New Orleans and the Caribbean, family reunions, Thanksgivings, Easters and Christmases—and just as importantly, quiet evenings at home on the couch watching a movie.

There is something sacred about being loved by someone who knew you then and has taken the time to deeply know you now.

Someone who remembers a version of you before careers, titles, losses, responsibilities and life's many layers.

Someone who can see who you have become while still recognizing who you have always been.

Michael and Alisa sometimes wonder what might have happened had they stayed in touch. But they have also come to understand that each needed to live a life of their own. Those years shaped them, stretched them, humbled them, and prepared them to love one another differently than they could have at 18.

Maybe theirs is not a story about lost time after all.

Maybe it is a story about finding one another when they were finally ready to understand what they had found.

And now, Michael and Alisa are ready to celebrate that love with all of you.

They would be honored to have you join them as the Ordunas and the Greggs come together—not simply as two families, but as a village surrounding this next chapter of their lives.

Because one thing they know now that they could not have understood at 18 is that time is precious.

So while we have it, let us love deeply.

Let us gather our people.

Let us laugh loudly.

Let us dance.

And let us celebrate.

A Candlelit Crimson Garden

Our wedding is imagined as a candlelit crimson garden where city elegance meets Southern summer soul—inspired by the summers of our childhoods and the people who made them beautiful.

Swimming pools and warm evenings. Fireflies after sunset. Grandmothers and grandfathers laughing. Music drifting through the air. Family gathered together with nowhere more important to be.

It is our way of reclaiming a little of the innocence, joy, and lightness of those years while celebrating all that life has taught us since.

So wear your favorite summer dress or suit.

Bring your dancing shoes.

Come ready to eat, laugh, reminisce, make new memories, and help us begin this next chapter surrounded by our village.

After 33 years apart, we have some celebrating to do.