Before the Fireworks

IMG_0184It was in August of last year that my beloved called from Kuwait to ask if I would move across the country with him. Only a few hours later, after I grappled with all that it would mean to leave my church and follow my heart, I said yes. I would go with him. I would move all the way across the country — back home — to make a life with him.

It was a few months after that that I sent him a link to the ring I had chosen for myself. Because we had already spoken about getting married. And we knew it was something we both wanted. It was about that time that he bought that ring.

It was in March that we packed our bags and moved. We settled into our new home together and I watched him freak out one night because he couldn’t find the ring that he had stupidly packed up with the movers. I knew it was in the house. I never went looking for it. But, I knew it was in the house.

I had told my love before we moved that I expected a proposal soon. I gave him a deadline. I never imagined that I would be the kind of girl that gave a deadline. But I also never imagined myself to be the kind of girl that would follow a man across the country. I never thought I would make that choice. So I gave him a deadline. He needed to propose by the end of June.

It was in the beginning of June that I started to freak out. Because we had reached the month for which the deadline had been set and nothing seemed to have changed. He was still telling me the same thing. There are steps, Elsa. There are steps, he would say. So I freaked out. I freaked out to my dearest friends. They heard me cry and wail. And yes, there really was some wailing.

It was about three weeks ago that my beloved and I decided we would spend the Fourth of July in New York City. We bought a Groupon for a fancy hotel. We made plans to see the Macy’s Fireworks and that’s when he said, “Oh. Fireworks would be romantic.” That’s when I knew that it would be that weekend. It would be that weekend that he would finally ask me to marry him. But, it didn’t happen under the fireworks. It happened before in a wine bar down by the South Street Seaport. It happened there over a bottle of wine — something we both love — that he told me he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. It was there that he gave me the the ring and I said yes.

Yes, of course I will marry you.

Because everything really does work out in the end.

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3 thoughts on “Before the Fireworks

  1. Thanks for sharing your story! Everyone likes a happy ending and yours did not disappoint us! Congratulations Elsa.

    Like

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