This time last year I was
drafting a story – found here – that began by describing our first kiss, and
ended in asking Liz’s father for permission to ask for her hand in marriage.
Considering that I finally asked Liz for her hand several weeks ago, the card
from her parents (pictured above) is quite fitting.In envisioning the proposal I
had seen a photo booth, a photographer, a romantic view, and a group of
friends. As Liz succinctly put it after the fact, “He would have had a parade
if he could”. While the proposal didn’t end up being the big to-do that I
previously envisioned, I couldn’t have asked for a better moment.
So, it was her late
grandmother’s ring. I put it in a pocket of my suitcase that would make its way
to Michigan for the holidays. And then in another pocket. And then in another.
Each consecutive pocket more secure than the one prior. I wasn’t certain when I
would propose, but I wanted to be prepared should the right moment arise.
The day after we arrived in
the Upper Peninsula of Michigan we wanted to get out and explore the
snow-covered beach. It was so different than we has seen it six months before.
Then, we were kayaking and taking in the sun. Now, I was putting on snow pants
over two already placed layers. I put the ring in a pocket of my jacket. And
then in another pocket. And then in another. I thought how ridiculous I was
being, and how my “safe” pocket options were running out.
We ventured out into the
balmy 20-ish degree weather. Lake Superior was freezing. The beach was covered
in a thick layer of snow. The surrounding landscape was beautiful, peaceful,
and nearly silent. The only sounds were our crunching footsteps backed by the
subtle crackling of water gently moving ice, yet my mind raced. Did she see me
touch my pocket? Did I touch my pocket? I don’t remember touching the ring in
my pocket for the 24th time. Did I lose it already? Be cool Micah.
BE. Cool. Should I do it here? What about here? Not here. I couldn’t imagine
going back to “the place where he proposed”, and it being some random person’s
beach-front lot. It is amazing how a seemingly simple question can temporarily transform an easy-going guy into a neurotic mess.
I took off my right hand
glove to reach into a pocket for my phone. Not long after the phone met the
bone chilling temperatures, the previously full battery went dead. No more
photos for me, which was unfortunate. However, it was an acceptable casualty
because it was then that I had the chance to pull the ring from my coat pocket, slip it on my own finger, and put my glove on over it. Easy access. No digging in pockets if
the opportunity arose, only an unveiling of sorts.
Our snowy hike took us back
to the beach in front of the cabin. One of Liz’s favorite places. She had been
on that beach every summer since she was born. Would a proposal there
contribute to or alter meaning of that place? The question ran through my head
as I unknowingly paced.
Liz was snapping pictures of
me while I paced. Not knowing what was going through my head she said, “I want
to take a selfie”. I’m not sure that I have
ever heard those words from her. Nonetheless, it was an opportunity to capture
the moment even though my phone had died. She asked me to take it of the two of
us. I grabbed her phone, and began to reach out with my right hand before I saw
the ring bulging from the thin black glove. “Wait. Switch me spots”. With my
now left hand holding the phone I caught the moment, evidenced in a
half-smile-smirk, that I knew that I was going to ask her that three-word
question on that beach.
On the beach… in the snow… in
front of the cabin… Liz asked the natural question, “What do you want to do
next?” “I want to spend the rest of my life with you”, I said as I settled in
with a snow-covered knee. “Yes”, she said as tears began running down her
face, and she joined me kneeling in the snow.
After a few seconds I was
surprised to find us both on our knees. We got to our feet, and were taking in
the gravity of the moment before we heard BANG, BANG, BANG. We turned to the
cabin to see Liz’s mom in the window with a camera. We smiled and waved
thinking that she had seen it all. We found out later that she didn’t even know
I had proposed, but did a great job of capturing the moments after, including
me wiping a tear from Liz’s cheek. We composed ourselves before marching
inside, and toasting to our collective future with a bit of Catdaddy, a North
Carolina moonshine.
Come to find out, an intimate
moment has the potential to be more fulfilling than one with much pomp and
circumstance. As Liz pointed out, it was a moment that was shared by just the two of us.
For Liz's perspective, see her post here.
