In The Beginning
Mark and Amy began as a happy couple, forged on love at first sighting—for Amy, that is. It would take Mark the better part of a year to catch up, and we’ve been making up for lost time ever since. But long before ever since, there were perilous divulgences that had to be braved that could have signaled the mortality of our foreverness were we to find ourselves too far apart. While we shared in common many of the things we loved as children, Disney was treasured, on a par with the kind of secret you only tell your very best friend. As the moment approached when it had to be confronted, there was an instinctive hesitation. Who would be the first to reveal their truth? Fear and excitement engaged in a brief tango before Mark blurted as if one word: “ILOVEDISNEY!”
Amy’s relief had to exhale before squealing, “Me, too!”
We held each other in an eternal hug. Mortality had been averted.
And thus began Us: two people who were happiest together, and happier still at The Happiest Place on Earth.
And Then There Was Light…
For years, our visits to our mouse-eared Mecca were limited to annually, if even. We’d stay as long as the park allowed and rode all our favorite rides as many times as we possibly could. But inevitably that time would come…. While Amy preferred not to linger, Mark would have to stop at the Main Street flagpole and inhale the entrance with a teary (yet masculine) eye cast with reverence toward the train station. Sighs of reluctant acceptance would accompany us all the way back to the car, which was always too long a journey for melancholy reward.
When finally we were able to experience WDW, we implicitly accepted that it might be a long time before a return visit would be feasible, so we sucked up every ounce of Disney air, tried to observe every subtle Disney detail and travel every foot of Disney pavement. When we returned, so as not to forget a single breath, nuance or step, we got out a pad of paper and wrote it all down, from arrival to departure:
Upon wrapping up our notes from our fourth consecutive year, which tended to take a couple weekends to complete, Mark commented after an extended sigh of finality: “I wish we could do something with all these notes. Like put them on a website just for us.”
Amy smiled at her beloved’s Disney love. “That’s a lot of work just for us,” she was realistic. Yet the idea resonated. “We’ve certainly got a lot of good material,” she noted, appreciating that after four years we’d become rather expert at optimizing our experience—with Disney and each other. “It could also be a website for couples like us, who love each other, love Disney and don’t have kids; or who love each other, don’t have kids and don’t realize they could love Disney!”
The idea hovered and hummed and Mark and Amy looked at each other with charged excitement. Could we do it? Technically yes. A comprehensive search implied it was safe to proceed, but: could we do it?
Our skill sets said yes. Our desire said yes. Our volume of notes and photos said yes.
It looked like we had our answer.
All we needed was the name. Something that said it all.
The answer seemed obvious: Disney for Two!