He’s wondering when I will write about how it all happened.
It wasn’t on purpose, mind you. It’s just that I wanted to compile the purest set of words possible to describe the moment he asked me to marry him. But it’s difficult for me to isolate this moment from the four years that preceded it. Honestly, the instance in time when he slid the ring, nestled in a small black box, across the table, I couldn’t help but recall the thousand other moments that brought us to this point.
Our setting? A beautiful morning in the Caribbean. Trinidad, specifically.
The original agenda? To record our trip’s events with his dad and his video camera out on the hotel’s patio.
For some women, I suppose, being in an exotic place can only enhance the beauty of the proposal experience. However, the moment he focused his eyes on mine, I’d forgotten where we were. For all I knew, we were sitting on my couch back in Virginia, or standing in line at Best Buy.Oddly enough, I have to watch the recording to fill in my surroundings, because I vaguely remember if the wind was blowing. Or exactly how warm it was outside that morning. Or what color the chairs were we were sitting on.
But I do remember the calm in his eyes. And the sureness in the way his hand gripped mine before he gave me the ring. I am sure about the joy in his laughter when I said “yes”. I have committed to memory the way his father’s eyes welled up with tears.
So.
I’m sure you’d like to know the full account of the details surrounding how it happened. But the most important thing you should know is that my best friend asked me to be his wife. And I said yes.
Be Still. {The Blog} 