When I was young, I wrote in a school assignment: "When I grow up, I want to be an artist." That was the truest thing I've ever written. The canvas just happens to be gatherings now.

I grew up in a Filipino family in New York where medicine was always the plan. Not because I chose it for myself, but because it was always ingrained in me. What I actually loved was making things: handmade stationery, graphic design, an Etsy shop I started in college because I needed a creative escape from all of my bio courses. Eventually I switched to business and never looked back.

Later I worked in corporate event marketing in Las Vegas, helping launch a large convention space on the Strip. That's where I understood it fully: the environment of an event shapes everything. How people gather, how they move through a room, and how they remember. Then COVID happened two days before the grand opening of that massive space we'd spent years building toward. In-person events were no longer happening and I lost that job a couple months later in pandemic limbo.

Within a year, I planned my wedding, got married, and Little Flower Moments started not long after. I had a husband who believed in what this could become, a growing family, and a stubborn conviction that beauty should be more than just something to post.

The introverted one. That's me, and I've stopped arguing with it. My mind has never been quiet, even when I was. It's always designing, always observing, always asking what a space could be if someone actually paid attention to it.

I've always worked in the background. Not the star of the room, but the one who made it worth being in.

That's what we do. And I absolutely love it.