“I’m not feeling well.” My time of the month arrived for the first time in nine months. Not sure what caused the hiatus because I didn’t have health insurance. But it arrived, and it busted through the door in full swing.
“Okay, let’s get you over to my parent’s house so we can get some medicine,” said George.
His parents weren’t home when our entrance disturbed the stillness of the house. George led me to a reclining chair in the living room and went upstairs to snatch some pain reliever medicine. The overwhelming pain distracted me from his peculiarity.
He came downstairs with the pills. Ran back upstairs. Came down again, and entered the kitchen to get me some water. Stalling, unbeknown to me, he turned on the light in the living room and slowly knelt beside me in the chair.
Hurry up already, I thought. What are you doing?
He gently tilted the bottle of pills and about fifteen of them landed in my hand. Annoyed. Yes, annoyed described my reaction.
Then, buried underneath over a dozen pills, I spotted the most beautiful ring in the world. My ring. His ring. Our ring.
The pain subsided instantaneously. And his mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear him.
Tears stumbled over our eyelids and dampened our cheeks.
“Just stop talking,” I said. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”
We kissed, talked, laughed, and cried. The cycle repeated for forty-five minutes. Complete with five inch smiles.
Oh, and I said yes.
Weeks before that I begged George to propose. He had the ring, but his big plans tied him down. Hot air balloons. Wine. Video cameras. Big snazzy plans. Those plans withered into thin air—thankfully—when he randomly decided to surprise me in a sea of pills.
Part of his motivation stemmed from the night before. I lived with his aunt at the time, and he came to visit from band practice. I decorated the room in candlelight, looped our song on my computer, and when he entered the basement he saw a note taped to the wall. A memory written across it from the very beginning of our relationship.
The notes led him around the entire basement, taped to every wall, as he traveled through time in our memories. Finally, the last notes said, “You are my past, present, and future. Let’s continue making memories forever.”
The last note stuck to a door. A door that I hid behind.
He read it. Opened the door. And we cried in each others arms. Embracing as our song played over and over again.
Needless to say, he didn’t wait for the hot air balloon escapade. And I didn’t mind.
Moments like these fade for some people, but through everything, these moments remain “normal” to us.
Stay tuned for our wedding story! An interesting and unique one!
3 comments:
Aw. That's a cute one! :-) Thanks for sharing. I'm always interested to hear different engagement stories. I posted mine up on my blog the day after it happened. :-)
You can read it here if you like...
http://kristelfatima.blogspot.com/2007/08/blog-weve-all-been-waiting-for.html
I just read your comment on Randy Alcorn's blog and came to check yours out. I don't have time to read now, but I'll be back.
I'm intrigued!
Thats a lovely story. I read one of your older blogs about trying to forgive your husbands past sins. I am not married but I feel that same feeling for my boyfriend. It's a strange sad ache in my heart.
Post a Comment