Five Years Ago Today . . .

. . . I was given a diamond ring. :)

It was the last weekend of fall break.
I had been the sickest that I can remember with strep and scarlet fever the entire break. I hadn't been able to swallow food or get up off the couch in days. I was only on the second chapter of a 3-chapter senior thesis that was due in 8 days. I could only write a sentence or so at a time on my laptop because I literally could not focus. And to top it off I kept hearing rumors from various friends that my boyfriend was going to ask me to marry him "very soon." And it was only making me feel panicky and apprehensive.

So, when he called to ask me to go out for a picnic on the Sunday before school resumed, the words burst out of my mouth: "Yes, but only if you promise not to ask me to marry you then."

He was stunned. (And very annoyed at me, I found out later.) But I was sick, and stressed and overwhelmed and was really tired of hearing "He's gonna ask yoooou . . . .!" from everyone, so I said that in an impulse of panic. . .
(By the way, I've since apologized profusely, but still have never quite lived this down.)

So, he promised.

Then on Friday night, there came a knock at the door and there he was. (Thank goodness I was dressed and feeling semi-normal again!) I remember what I was wearing . . . jeans, a rose pink long-sleeved tee and my mom's old brown woolen cable knit sweater.

We went out, in his green Chevy truck, to a state park on the other side of town. I don't think I was talking much. My throat still felt funny and I think I had sensed that he had been irritated the other day on the phone. But it was so good to see him . . . I think it had been two weeks since the last time we had been together.

We got out in a parking lot near a river overlook at the state park. It was cool and crisp out with lots of stars.
We talked . . . I don't remember what about . . . Then we danced. He had the truck's door open and the light from the cab fell on us. He played a mix CD with alot of our favorite songs. I remember putting my hands on his waist during a dance and feeling a small object close to the top of his pocket . . .
And he grabbed my hands away really fast, so then, of course, I knew.

And it was weird because it was as if time slowed down. I knew what was going to happen and I was completely calm and almost unaffected. It was all good, and right and I remember thinking to myself "you need to remember everything about tonight." And I didn't say anything then for while . . .

And then, like in a dream or a movie, slow-motion and surreal, but at the same time nothing like I had ever imagined it, he knelt down right in the doorway of the truck and said those famous words: will you marry me?

I always thought that those next moments would be seared into my mind forever, that I would have every word committed so much to memory that I could replay the moment in my head exactly from then on. But I don't. After that moment, that age-old question, my memory is a blur.
I remember I stood very still for a few seconds, trying to freeze the moment, and looking into his dear face before saying "Yes!" (He used to say that it was "forever" before I said anything, but now, from the wisdom of hindsight, he says it was probably less than 10 seconds.)
I remember how beautiful the ring was -- shining and sparkling in his hand -- and its cool weight on my finger, fitting almost perfectly.
I remember the little red heart shaped box it was in, that he apologized for because he thought it was silly.
I remember only not really being able to touch or kiss each for the rest of the night because we were in such awe and kept thinking is this real??
I remember looking and looking into each other's eyes and smiling and smiling. Our faces hurt from smiling.
I remember driving home not wanting the night to end, never, ever wanting to leave his side. . .

Little pieces of pure happiness.
The night that began the rest of our lives . . .