I was working as a bilingual teacher at an elementary school in West Chicago. It was Friday, the school day was over, and it was time to go home.(Hallelujah!) I knew I'd be seeing David that night, and was looking forward to relaxing. The day was really mild. We'd had some snow a few weeks before, but that day it was warm and rainy - probably in the 50s - and very foggy. Spring was on its way, which was making the start of my weekend even better.
As I tromped through piles of slushy snow to the front door of my apartment, my cell rang. It was David.
"Hey, guess what? I got off early today! So I'm coming over. Let's do something fun - have a date night - go to dinner and all that." He sounded wound up - happier than I'd heard him in a long time. The spring-like weather must have been getting to him, too.
"Sounds great!" I said. About an hour later he showed up at my door. He was soaking wet. "Let's take a walk!"
"Did it start raining again?" I asked. "And what about dinner?"
"Have you been outside?" he responded.
"No... not for a while," I answered.
"Well, I got caught in a little downpour while I was running an errand. Come on, let's go for a walk! We can do dinner later."
I looked at his soaked clothes dubiously. I hemmed, I hawed. Why in the world did he want to go out walking in this? I made some excuses. He was having none of it.
"Put on your boots. Let's go down to Island Park." His "charm" (read: stubbornness) convinced me. But I still grumbled as I pulled on my traffic-cone-orange snow boots. "Well, these certainly make for a sexy date outfit," I thought.
Once at the park, he took my arm. We slopped together (under an umbrella) through the drizzle and the icy, snowy puddles on the bike path. It really was rather pretty. It was still warm, but had gotten dark, but the lights from the town lit the park all around us. The river glowed from the streetlights and thick clouds of fog were rising from it. It was rather dreamlike. I wanted to stop and take it in, but David was on a mission. He practically ran me through the park, over to the pavilion where we sometimes sat and talked. "What's up with you?" I whined.
Suddenly, my friend Pam leaped out from the doorway of the pavilion. "I'm so sorry, David!" she said frantically. "I couldn't get the fire to light!" And she ran off into the dark park. It was then that I figured out there were games afoot. Suddenly, I was nervous. And hopeful.
We walked into the pavilion. There sat a small round table, a few shining candles, a vase of red roses, two glasses, and a bottle of wine. Knowing my husband, there was probably music. (There was a stereo on the fireplace mantle. But I don't remember if it was playing.) I looked at David. He looked at me. I thought, "This better be what I think it is... or I'll kick him."
He sat me down. "Let me see if I can get the fire to light," he said, and began busying himself with the matches. I sat and watched, my mind racing. He was nervous. He wouldn't look at me. But he did get the fire started. Then he started pacing in a circle next to me. I sat and watched him, not sure what to do.
And then suddenly he dropped to one knee. He took my hand. "Brittany, I love you.... Will you marry me?"
My first thought was, "This is really happening. Is this really happening? Huh. Maybe this is why my parents called me five times this afternoon." What I said was,"Are you serious?"
He looked utterly confused. "Yes!"
I looked at him. I smiled. And then, of course, I said yes.
We got caught in the rain on the way home. And then we went out to celebrate. And each year at this time, I start wishing I could live that night all over again.
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| At dinner (after the rain-soaking), celebrating the proposal. |
