When I saw that one of Mama Kat’s prompts this week was to tell the story of your proposal, I immediately knew I should participate. Because I loved mine.
As I’ve mentioned
too many times before, Lee and I have been together for a long time. Since high school. And honestly? We felt early on that we would get married once the time was right and spend our lives together. I’m sure a lot of teenagers feel that way, but it turned out we were right. Anyway, you might think that the proposal was anti-climactic since there was never any doubt that we would get married.
But it was wonderful. We had decided the summer after Lee graduated from college that the time was right to take that next step towards engagement and then marriage. We discussed it together. We went ring shopping together. But I never knew when the proposal would happen. And I knew my husband would come up with something that would surprise me.
Some of my memories of the day aren’t perfect, but I do remember some details. We were at my parents’ house. They were out of town. We were staying with my little brother (who was happy to be in on the surprise planning with Lee). I was sent out on some sort of errand, and when I returned, I saw notes on each of the stairs leading to the top.
Read these in order, then come to your room.
Obviously, I knew something was up.
There were 22 messages for me. I asked Lee the significance of the number this morning, and neither of us came up with any, so we’re assuming that’s just how many steps there were. My husband is an amazing writer. He has such a way with words and knows just how to say what I want to hear without knowing it’s what I wanted to hear, from the first letter he wrote to me when I was at summer Governor’s School, to a letter he gave me over the summer after I’d been out of town at a conference for a week. His words never fail to move me in some way.
Some of my favorite lines from the notes (I pulled them out of our lock box this morning where they’re saved so that we’ll never lose them), starting with the first note. I’m not including all the things that would only ever mean something to me because they were our shared memories of our years together (and I did ask him this morning if he minded if I shared some of his words here).
I’d seen you before.
I knew who you were.
I wanted to know about you.
I wanted to know you.
You were mine. You had to be.
Because you are perfect.
Because when I’m with you, I’m perfect.
Because I love you.
I want a family.
That doesn’t mean a house. It doesn’t
mean kids. It doesn’t mean the
same last name. It doesn’t mean
filing jointly. It doesn’t mean
sleeping together. I want some
of those things.
Maybe I want all of them.
But I know I want a family.
That means love.
That means forever.
That means you.
I’ve made you read all this alone
so that you would realize how
much I have to say, and how
nice it is that when we’re
together, I don’t have to say a word.
Now you’re finished. It’s time
for you to come find me.
I have something to say to you.
And so I found him in my bedroom, waiting with my ring to ask me to marry him. There was never any doubt about the answer. And even though I felt like we’d essentially been engaged for years already, I was surprised how nice it felt to take that next official step towards marriage. And so happy that he made this a special moment for us when he could have just as easily bought the ring and said, “So, let’s plan a wedding.” I would have said yes to that, too, but this way was much, much better.
Linking up with Mama Kat: