Four years ago, D and I got engaged in a little stone pavilion overlooking Central Park. The day was warm, so the weekend crowds were out in force and the snow on the ground was turning to slush. D still bemoans the latter effect -- he wanted to kneel when he proposed -- but I'm very glad he didn't. I'm shy, and we would have had quite the audience.
Romantic that he is, D had managed to acquire a rose (he still hasn't told me from where), which he then concealed in his jacket while we were out and about in Manhattan. When the moment was right, he pulled the flower from its hiding place. I think I was so distracted by the magic trick that I didn't realize D had tied the engagement ring he'd chosen to the stem. (And there was also the whole "Will you marry me?" bit that had me slightly giddy!)
Since then, oddly enough, we haven't really had this day together to commemorate -- after I finished teaching that June, I moved to Texas and worked on the night desk of a newspaper for two years, during which D and I never had a day off in common (his job was Monday to Friday; mine was Friday to Tuesday). Then I got into graduate school, D got his job offer, and here we are. Fortunately, I'll be on a plane in a few hours for a long weekend in Seattle, which will make up for having to give up today. I think a celebratory date is in the works for Saturday. Whether it's a night out or a night in, I have no preference; it will just be nice to have the uninterrupted 24 hours together. How I've forgotten until now those awful seven-day work weeks in Texas. Compared to that option, I think this commute is actually more manageable, which is saying something.
Packing calls. More from Seattle (or after it)!
1 day ago