Remember me?

You might not recognize me anymore.  Two years of life change can do that to a girl.  Besides the obvious changes like a temporary purple hair-streak or a new tattoo or the fact that I now wear two rings on my ring finger, the majority of changes have happened in my home, in my heart.

To catch up on a little of 2011 and all of 2012, you can check out my photography blog under category > personal.  You'll find blog after blog of Instagram pictures with little stories and hopefully things that might make you laugh or breathe easy.  I stopped repetitive posting at the beginning of 2013 hoping to bring to readers true humanity -- someone living, breathing, working, relating, and aiming for the highest.  My initial blog post brought me great hopes; but as the weeks wore on, I simply gave up.  I lacked the desire to bring the emotions, the heart.  The soul.

I want to write openly -- to bear my heart and have the reception so incredibly heartfelt that I burst into tears.  But I couldn't because the beauty I want to convey is covered by a great deal of bitterness and anger at those who left my side and judged me unfairly.  And the rest was covered by insecurity.  Seven years have passed since I left my little hometown, but why can't I shake the feelings of judgement?

Love Day.

We here in Holland celebrate love every day. With sweet e-mails, eskimo kisses, and lots of "I'll do the dishes, Sweetie." So when Valentine's Day came around this past Monday, we didn't plan for much. You'd imagine my surprise then when Adam walks into my store with a dozen roses and a huge heart balloon.

I'm a big fan of love. Ooey, gooey, "cavity-from-too-much-sugar" kind-of sweet love. I'm all for cuddling under big blankets and making a mess from baking brownies together. Kisses on foreheads and holding hands while watching a movie.

And so when there's a day just to celebrate love, we do.

Because I can...can't.

12:19am. 19 minutes short of a blog per (technical) day. But hey, it's still considered February 9th to me because I'm still up. Still listening to music, still editing my website, still reading blogs, and yes, still watching Grey's Anatomy on Netflix.

Before I kicked myself in the morning, I had to purposefully blog tonight. Just so I did the whole "new blog post per day." Because I can...can't, really. I can't not blog or else I break my resolution. And I can't break a one month resolution. Especially since this month has the shortest number of days (if it is only by three...right?).

I have a feeling that tomorrow will be revitalizing. And I can say that with almost full confidence because:

1) I'm getting my newly-made, fitted engagement ring. Been waiting 3 months for that baby!

2) I'm getting my wedding dress...squeee! And I get to try on my newly fitting gown for my mama, sister, and baby nephews. :)

3) Date night with my hunny. Need I say more?

4) GROCERY SHOPPING. A newly stocked fridge almost beats out date night. I mean, seriously. What would date night even be without the stocked fridge?

Okay, blog for the day-- check. Now, bed.

Just a Small Town Girl.

I'd say that I'm a sucker for cheap thrills, but with the word "cheap" comes all sorts of ugly connotations: poorly made, not lasting, not worth much. While these thrills I speak of were short-lived, they were far from being worth little.

I've worked 6 days in a row, and today on my day off, I chose the thrills of family. I hit the snooze only once before fumbling out of bed at 8:38am and drove to the place where I chose happiness with those I love. The feelings of warm tea and muffins in my belly while watching the snow fall outside. The smell of babies and kiddies that are mine. The laugh of a sister. Spilled water glasses and play-doh flying everywhere. Servers mistaking Everett as my own (not that I minded...or corrected them). Lots...and lots of napkins.

It was just the way I wanted to start my morning.

And then, to finish off my night with some of my favorite boys. Board games. Charlotte's Web. Spilled chocolate milk and mandarin oranges. Baby bird faces. Sneaking chocolate treats with Uncle Adam...

Yet amidst it all, four hours of editing was finished for my photography business. And to really top it all off? THE LAUNDRY GOT DONE.

I couldn't have asked for a better day off.

lucky girl.

i needed a day like today. a day where everything went right.

today at work, i sold over $700 in shirts, pants, and ties. i've been working as a sales executive for almost three weeks (two at the registers), and i've been eager to ease my way into the system. to check people out without asking for help. to assist people without sounding like i don't know what i'm doing. today, i felt like a salewoman. i sold merchandise, made a profit, and almost beat everyone in the day's sales.

and then, after a rough week where we're not spending enough quality time together, adam surprises me with a beautifully delicious dinner, my favorite: barbecue chicken, green beans, and french bread -- can't forget the wine...or the flowers & candles for that matter. :) needless to say, it was just what i needed to feel all bright + shiny again. plus it felt kind of celebratory in honor of finally getting the hang of things at work.

let's keep this short & sweet. i promised to blog every day, and i have thus-far. but a bottle of wine is waiting for me, and so is my sweetie! happy saturday, friends! :)

selfless vs. selfish

there is no way i'm up for blogging tonight, but i made a resolution. kind of like a vow. which, coincidentally, is related to why i'm not up for blogging right now.

everyone that i've talked to about wedding planning says that the guest list is the hardest part. feelings get hurt, and the bill grows larger, and all the while, i feel helpless and completely out-of-control. the whole selfish bride complex gets tossed out the window, and selflessness takes its place. all 250 of them. yes, the guests.

and working two jobs, staying connected with family, and maintaining a relationship with my fiance seem to make this whole "wedding planning" business fall to the end of the "to-do" list. i'd much rather be making money or holding my newborn nephew than making big decisions as to whether cut Aunt Susie (twice removed, yet still fictional) from the guest list.

and so my tummy's in knots, my heart's continually got butterflies, and the perfect dream wedding is no closer to getting done. in fact, it gets pushed farther and farther into the back of the cupboard (i have no idea what's up with these food metaphors-- the butterflies don't let me eat!). and feelings like these (anxiety and apathy) just beg the question: is being selfish with your wedding ever a good thing?

February: a month for resolutions.

I made a resolution for February. And you can check it out here. :)

Nella's ONEder Fund.

Bonjour, Monsieur! Comment ca va? Je...have been learning French. Rather, Francais. Don't ask me why; well, you can. I'm desperate for raw mental stimulation. Not the every-day occurring kind of thing. The college learning kind of thing. A year ago I would've killed for a mindless job, re-runs of Grey's Anatomy, a mental stewing of boredom. And now, I'm craving it. Craaaaaving. Craving a response on an academic paper. Craving studying for an exam and the rush of receiving back an A. I was never real in-tune with athletics at school. (I dribbled in court instead of throwing the ball from out-of-bounds in junior high basketball. Twice.) But I was smart. And once I scooted around different majors and minors, I finally settled into my niche at the end of sophomore year. Shakespeare, Emily Bronte, and even J.K. Rowling (okay, maybe not that last one). All became good friends accompanying me into a world of academics where I could excel. After finishing a couple novels by the Bronte sisters, I was in desperate need of new reading material. Cue Barnes & Noble. Cue Brennigan not having enough money. Cue Adam. Cue him suggesting library. Cue searching. Cue Learn French books. Too many "cues." Cue mental reminder not to use them again. Okay, that just sounds kind of stupid.

Besides sounding insanely sexy when spoken (is that too shallow?), French is a beautifully complex language. Since I was dying for an academic challenge, I picked up a few books (as well as a recommended novel) on the subject. I AM LOVING IT. I've made some flash-cards, registered online at a French learning site, and am probably annoying Adam more than usual with my relentless, "Bonjour Monsieur! Comment ca va? Bon! Au revoir!" My speech may sound redundant, but my oh my, I bet I sound sexy.

But not everything's been airy, and sexy, and French. No, no. We're talking major freak-out on my part (isn't it always?). I'm no expert, but I don't think this is good.

My lens broke. MY LENS BROKE. My sweet, baby 50mm 1.8. And I was devastated. The devastated where I'm booooing and whiiiining to Adam on the phone about my itty bitty lens FALLING APART. When I have a shoot Sunday. A baby shoot. And when I do baby shoots, I need my baby lens. Cue Adam (I swear, that's my last one). The man is sick, but drives me to Grand Rapids to get my lens looked at. And supports me as I buy a replacement lens. Then drives me all the way back. I love my baby lens (number 2), and I love that he cares so much about me and my business.

BLOG-SHIFT. I've got a few thoughts that's been on my heart lately. And ready or not, I'm going to start pouring them out.

Number 1. Sweet Nella.

Nella's turning one. I've been following her mom's blog, Kelle Hampton, for almost the entire year (unless you're counting going through all her old blog posts; then I've technically been following her for a couple of years). Kelle is an inspiration to me as an artist, as a mom, as a lover-of-life. I look forward to her blog-posts every.single.time she posts something new, and I frequently find myself talking about her and her beautiful girls, Nella and Lainey, as if I knew them personally.

Nella has down-syndrome. Her diagnosis, like many other children with DS, wasn't discovered until her birth. And since then, Kelle has been raising awareness about DS and life's challenges --and JOYS TOO, hallelujah-- while raising a child with DS. For Nella's first birthday, she's established the ONEder fund where all proceeds will go directly to the NDSS (National Down Syndrome Society).

Kelle is right. If I donated just $5 - the price of one of my bridal magazines - I could help bring about change. And I couldn't help it. My heart strings play like one of those big bass guitars -all funky and cool and full of soul- when I see sweet Nella's face. And so, if you'd be willing as well, you can donate too right here.

Oh, and here's Kelle's video about the ONEder fund. Go on and watch it; I dare you not to cry.

Number 2. The fire.
I've been thinking about the fire lately. The fire of life where we're pulled in both directions, making too-little-money pay the bills, handling sick babies and sick husbands, and dealing with emotional and physical stress. And this fire, this fire is where we're scared to death even just to breathe for a moment for fear of suffocation from the smoke effects.
But the fire isn't meant to burn us. It's meant to refine us. Like a sword being taken a slab of ugly metal and being made into a tougher, more beautiful piece of art.
I'm thankful for being made new.
I don't really have a great way to end this since my mind is turning to mush, and crawling into my heated bed just sounds so inviting. So happy weekend, friends!

Test.

So, I'm testing this new way to post pictures here on the blog. A way that will allow my images to be shown larger and much more precise than just uploading via blogger.

Here we go!

And no, unfortunately this doesn't count towards my monthly goal of 5 posts per month. A REAL blog post is coming! :)

Snow Days.

Of all the times I'm grateful to be a born + raised Michigander, it'd have to be in this season; when the roads are full of ice, and the snow sloshes around winter-tires. It's not because I love the snow. On the contrary, I'm desperate for open windows and spring breezes and sun rays that stir my soul. BUT, I am grateful to be born here.

I was driving home the other night, and a on-coming van swerved into my lane, did a 360 degree spin, and then veered back into his lane and onto the side of the road. Whenever such things occur (like deer on the side of the road during autumn), my heart stops. Literally, it stops. Then speeds up. And my body aches as if all my muscles prepared for a crash. And I don't know if he wasn't sure how much his van could handle on the icy roads (some people are just so ignorant when it comes to those matters) or if it really was out of his control.

But I am grateful that when I was 16, I was learning how to drive with snow. When I first took my car out in the winter, my dad had me drive into a snow drift just so I could figure out how to back out of it. I am grateful because I'm prepared to drive on these roads that cause multiple accidents daily.

I am grateful to be Michigan-born because I know my car. I know how my car handles during this precarious season. I know the stiffening of my steering wheel when I hit a patch of fresh snow. I know the sound of my tires when I hit ice. I know how soon I must hit the brakes in order to stop on time. I know this season. And I'd venture to say, that you other Michigan-born drivers do as well.

And so when I hear of schools closing in other states because of two inches of snow, I chuckle to myself. Two inches isn't enough to even notice here. Two FEET maybe, but never two inches. And even then, we Michigan-born put on our boots, shovel off our cars, and head to work. Because let's just be honest; this lucky talent we were raised to cultivate makes us a feel a little superior with all things motorized. Okay,...maybe a lot superior.

Happy Birthday, Blog.

One year ago today, I started writing the blog that would help transform my creative spirit. Let's see how I lived up to the expectations set for myself in my first blog here.

2010 will be a great year. i've been waiting for this year for a while. what is to come?

diplomas. job offers. new apartments. diamonds, perhaps? :)

Check, check, check. Oh, and CHECK. While I wouldn't be so bold as to venture to sum up a year with so many monumental benchmarks, I will say that I am happy. A year ago, I wasn't. I found myself in a social rut, and a personal daily struggle to be happy where I was. I was living life on the edge of a sanity I fought hard and persistently to protect. Today, I may not wake up every morning rejoicing for the dawn of a new day (not to say that I shouldn't, but have you stepped outside lately? 20 degree weather is not my cup of tea.), but I wake up with hope. Every single day. Hope in new possibilities. For work, for my relationships, for life.

We've come a long ways; me and my little blog. So here's to hopin', sweet thang. Hoping for a year filled with stories, lessons, and pictures of beauty to write about. Right here, at my blog.

Hello, 2011. I've been expecting you.

I've had a problem with blogging lately. I've started over five blogs in the past month, but just can't seem to finish anything. And I so desperately wanted to blog about Christmas and my love for all things tradition, but this Christmas seemed so different not being home for days upon days or following the same Christmas Eve traditions. And then I caught a bug I just couldn't seem to shake until just a few days ago, and...and...lame excuse after lame excuse. I loved being with my parents and those I love the most. Christmas came and went, and I welcomed the calm of the ordinary. I embraced the everydayness of life without parties, presents, and soaring odometers.

And after doing all the laundry, putting away all the presents, and switching back to a more normal diet free of gravy-topped potatoes and chocolate creme pies, I've found myself here.

Nestled in my chair with a cup of loose leaf British tea and an old book.

And I couldn't be happier.

I have blessed beyond what I could have hoped for or imagined. And I know it.

Now onto the New Year. For fun, I'll pop the cork off 2011 with three things off my resolution list.

1. Blog 5 times per month (off to a great start).

2. Pay off debt before getting married in August.

3. GAIN 10 pounds (and yes, I meant gain...as in "add" - "in addition" - "plus"). So grateful to have that luxury.

Any resolutions over there in your neck of the woods?

a weekend for the record books.

Its not even 7PM, and I feel like I should've been in bed hours ago. The weight of working more hours combined with other commitments have left me feeling like I haven't had a day off in weeks. Couple that with planning a wedding and shopping for Christmas and that's my life right now. I'm pooped.

I meant to blog earlier this week just to recap on what a wonderful weekend was had. Weekends like last come along once or twice a year, and I was sure to suck the marrow out of every inch while it lasted. And as quickly as a blink of an eye, it was gone. I'm so thankful that God instilled in me a love for pictures. Without that love, I would never have been able to capture the snapshots of this life.

Steph and Shaina came over on Thursday to help me bake Christmas cookies. Besides the fact the Shaina had to leave 15 minutes after arriving, the night was a success. Even after the failed attempts at frosting making and only using one cookie sheet, we ended up with these beauties...

Ever since 2007, I have had an insane love for Michael Buble. Adam bought us tickets to his concert in Grand Rapids for my birthday in November. And this past Friday, we finally were able to indulge our jazzed up appetites.

Adam bought us wonderful floor seats that made an arena filled with 12,000 people only feel like a couple hundred. What a blessing it was to discover that we were aisle seats as well! We were happy when we saw that we could leave whenever we wanted without crossing over people's laps, but we were ECSTATIC when we realized Michael Buble was coming down the aisles to see the fans! On his way back up to the stage, I reached out desperately -- yes, conjure up the image in your head: me screaming like a ten-year old getting ready to see justin bieber. holding my heart with one hand, scraping and searching for a piece of his clothing (or hair) -- to touch him. And instead of just touching him, he looked me directly in the eye and grabbed my arm. As in, HELD MY ARM. I screamed for the remainder of his walk up to the stage, but then fell into a comatose-like state. He touched me. Michael Buble just touched me.

After Adam and I each finished work on Saturday, we drove home to my parents to spend the night around the fireplace. Drinking coffee and snuggling with furry animals. Its one of our favorite places. After checking out the venue for our upcoming wedding, we went Christmas tree shopping with my parents to find the perfect 9', blue spruce, live tree. Rich with pine scents and pokey needles (that Dad will no doubtedly regret buying as he puts on the Christmas lights). We bundled in parkas and scarves, drank in cups of hot cocoa, and toured the gift shop that nestled perfectly in the southwest michigan countryside (okay, we bought a couple ornaments too!). After arriving, I was desperate for my Canon60D, but I left it in Holland. I'm so thankful that my iPhone could suffice!

isn't my mama gorgeous?

Monday hit hard. With long work hours, a daunting schedule for the week, and snow. Lots of snow. Holland received over a foot during the day on Monday, and although the soft flakes are gorgeous to look at through my sliding glass door, those flakes pair up with other flakes and create drifts and slush and then the worst...ice. I'm so thankful everyone in my family made it through our first snow storm safely. Here's to our next storm this weekend! I'm off to wedding plan and sort through Christmas presents. It's almost Friday, right?

december first.

the snowfall has quieted, and the flakes have nestled into each other creating a still blanket on the once green grass. the first snow of the season. the snow that everyone ahhhs and gasps about. seen as less of an annoyance and instead, a gracious complement, welcoming in the new holiday season. and to think, all of this happened on the first day of december.

so, i here i sit with my favorite cup filled with hot chocolate (sans marshmallows) listening to bing crosby and willingly welcoming what i've strove so long to put off: christmas movies, christmas music, snow, mittens, boots, and ice-scrapers. yes, folks. ice-scraper.

my ice-scraper and i had a reunion (a difficult one, mind you) this morning. stepping outside with 15 minutes to get to work, i see my car covered in a layer of snow...and ice. i open my driver-door (only to have snow fall in my car and on my sear), sigh one of those why-is-this-happening-already sighs, and start the defroster. tip-toe to the truck of my car and see it. my trusty, red ice-scraper. he's high-tech with his sturdy bristles and metal extension handle. and although i grudgingly said "hello" to him, we're now on even terms. i'm happy to have him; and he's happy to be out of hibernation...and to currently live on the passenger side floor.

however, the icy roads and i have yet to speak to each other again. he wasn't very friendly with his refusing to be plowed and salted. and he kept making me slip all the way to work. i forgot how rough he could be; i need to get used to it again!

and i say "hello" to another season, i wave "goodbye" to the other. november was good to me. real good to me. not only was it my birthday (22, holla!), but i got engaged, booked a wedding to photograph in may (!!), found a job for the season, and spent a beautiful day with my family this past thursday. turkey and gravy leftovers left me satisfied until saturday...when i realized i'd have to take a trip home to get more. i knew i should've taken more!

i have been blessed this past season...immensely. both with the big things mentioned above and all the small things in between: putting up the christmas tree with my love, spending a lazy night on the couch with a full pizza and the cat, going out to eat with my fiancé and talking about all things old. and now, after a day of work, i will sit back and enjoy it. because it can only be the first of december one day a year.

the proposal.

my absence from blogging has been long...at least for me. and before i can start blogging again about life, i have to write a blog about how drastically life has changed recently! i wrote out the proposal (because YAY! we're engaged) the day after it happened. just so i could remember every detail, every smell, every moment that made it so special. and since it has every detail, it is very long. but, i'm putting it here tonight. for all those who wanted to know "the story."

love you, guys!

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It happened Sunday night, November 14, 2010. And in a matter of 10 minutes, my life changed forever. Forever for the better. Because I now get to spend forever with the man who risked it all for the sake of our story.

Now, let’s just be honest. I knew it was coming. I did, really. Or maybe I only thought I did?

To really understand the full story, we’ve got to rewind you to November 2^nd. My birthday. Adam is always surprising me. Flowers regularly, special dinners, and little presents every now and then. And that’s not even on holidays. He knows how to make a woman feel loved…and special. He’s really great at making things special.

For my birthday this year, he bought me floor seats to see Michael Bublé this coming December. Anyone who knows me knows I love Michael Bublé; his concerts are some of my favorites, and I couldn’t be more excited! So when he said that we should go on a special date this past Saturday, ideas began developing in my head:

Okay, so he just spent money on my birthday…why would he want to do another special date? Why didn’t he want to hang out with our friends while we’re back home? Why does he keep telling me, “You’re so cute, I just don’t know what to do with myself!” Why is he so excited about this surprise on Saturday? And WHY is my mother asking me about wedding stuff all of a sudden?

I thought I had everything figured out. I mean, WHAT ELSE could he be doing?! I was so confident that he would be proposing that I called my best friend, my sister, my mother, and my two other good friends. I needed back-up. And I needed a second opinion. Who knew their words would mirror my thoughts so well.

If you’ve ever seen the movie Bride Wars featuring Kate Hudson, I swear, she is not my sister. But, we have similar personalities…and are both quite impatient. Kate Hudson found her engagement ring in her boyfriend’s stack of sweaters, and after a few weeks of him not proposing (and her best friend getting engaged), she confronts him at his office saying, “Will you just marry me already?! I found the Tiffany box in your closet! I mean, don’t you wanna get married?” To which he replied, “I have never met a more obnoxious...complicated, overbearing, gorgeous, smart, sexy woman in my life. And if you had just waited until tonight *gets out the ring* then you wouldn't be the woman I fell in love with because she doesn't know how to wait. Which is fine, as long as I get to spend the rest of my life trying to catch up with her. Will you marry me?”

With that in mind, Adam regular defines some of my actions as “goin’ Kate Hudson on him.” I pry. I question – very strategically – until I get the answer I want. I am very sly and quite capable of ruining most surprises. In fact, that’s basically what I did this past Thursday. I kept poking and poking until he just told me we were going to go out to Tosi’s for dinner. Which wasn’t the surprise he pumped it up to be. And left me kind of disappointed. So we argued. About him leading me on. About me being too intrusive. About how he says he wants to marry me, but I’m continually left in the dark whether he has a ring, talked to my dad, or even has the actual intention of even asking me to marry him!

After things were patched up between with a renewed sense of love, we continued with our week. Cue Saturday. Rainy, drizzling, and just more of a cuddle on the couch day. So that’s what we did. All day. And I was grumpy, I will admit, for part of it. Enough time for us to get into another argument continued from Thursday night. Except this time, I felt like the fool. Like I ruined the surprise. How I told people about what I thought was going to happen…that disappointedly didn’t. And to stop myself from crying, I got mad. You can’t let tears escape when you’re angry. But once I put my wall down and became vulnerable again, we healed. We communicated. And we cuddled. Because cuddling helps everything. And then my old habit crept back up, “You’re not proposing tomorrow, right? I mean, we don’t have time. We have church, then lunch with Grandma, then Scott’s play, and then we have to go back home. There’s just no time, right?” “Yes, babe. We’re just too busy. But you never know; it could happen sooner than you think.”

We spent our Sunday just as I thought we would. Church. Lunch with Grandma and my parents. A fabulous time watching Adam’s brother play Edna in Hairspray! And then a final trip back to my apartment at 9PM. Nothing out of the ordinary. Adam would follow me back home in my car to help me unload my bags then he’d go to his apartment. I mean, he had class the next morning, and I was starting a new job. And we were tired!

But as we ended the 45 minute drive, Adam calls me and asks me to keep the car running because he wants to come talk to me. Since I ruled out engagement the night before, I thought maybe he just wanted to talk to me about a brake light or something on my car. But, then, he got in my car:

You know I love you, right?

Yeaaaaah. I love you too.

Do you trust me?

Yeaaaah, I do.

Give me ten minutes.

IMMEDIATELY, I start freaking out. Like, sweating, leg twitching, can’t-even-listen-to-music-because-my-mind-is-racing. So, I do what I always do when Adam’s freaking me out. I call my best friend. And the sweet girl, who is a teacher and goes to bed early, freaks out with me. And for ten minutes we try to come up with possibilities of how itcouldn’t be engagement. But we can’t come up with any. It HAS to be! Adam wouldn’t be so cruel as to lead me on with another one of this “surprises”! My legs outstretched on the brake and gas pedals, and I reached over to turn my headlights off (after a neighbor poked his head out of the window to see why a girl would still be in her car after ten minutes). And then I see him come out of my apartment. After a quick good luck and one last scream, I say goodbye to Andrea. I knew something was happening. He had his hand holding his stomach as he walks in front of my car to my driver-side door. I asked him if we should get the bags, and he says to just wait. I ask him if I should lock my car, but he just wants to get me inside.

He stops me in front of the front door and takes me in his arms, squeezing tight, and whispering “I love you”s into my ear. After an eager kiss, he asks me to close my eyes. Tight. No peeking. And usually, I’m really really bad at this. I was the baby of my family, so I’m really good at peeking – presents, general things I shouldn’t witness, surprises that just get the best of me – but this time, I knew. Something big was about to happen. And everything that has happened in my life has brought me right.to.this.moment. Every break-up, every new experience, ever turn-of-events brought me right here. To my front door. And then, I shut my eyes. And I willingly stepped into my apartment and walked into the next chapter of my life.

Immediately, I could smell the light fragrance of candles. Not overwhelming at all, but just faint enough for me to distinguish the white tea light candles Adam had placed carefully throughout the room. He helped me take off my coat and let me slip off my black ballet flats. And I felt something on the ground touch my foot. I knew instantaneously…rose petals. He led me gently by the waist, backwards, through my small dining room and past the couch where my coffee table used to stand. Then he left me, just for a moment. And soon, one of our songs filled the room with music that brought on every emotion. He was going to propose. I knew as soon as the first note was played. I was going to be engaged to the man of my dreams in only a few moments. And as he walked back over to where I waited, the tears began to flow. And I couldn’t stop myself. These tears flowed from my heart, my soul. They shouted joy and whispered comfort. They soothed every anxienty and fed every nerve that left me feeling more alive than I have ever felt.

He let me open my eyes for just a moment while he cradled my cheeks between his trembling hands. He inhaled sharply and let out an unsteady breath through pursed lips. Then he smiled. Mirroring our racing hearts, his voice began to shake. And he told me exactly what he had shown me throughout the past two years: He loved me. He wanted me. He treasured me. And he wanted to make sure that I would be his for forever. Because he couldn’t live without me anymore. He didn’t want to.

Then he led me, with eyes closed once again, to the coffee table that he had moved next to the sliding glass door that over-looked the lake behind my apartment. I could feel him kneel on one knee as he took my hand. He brought it to his lips for a soft kiss just to let me know that everything, everything, is all right. He started speaking to me more words of love, and I asked if I could open my eyes. I was ready to see. I was ready for this.

And I saw everything. The white linens draped over the table and the television, my favorite photograph of us standing in an 8x10 frame, and candles. Oh, the candles. Tea-lights were everywhere. And smooth rose petals accompanied the soft light as if it was its only purpose.

And written with dancing flames that beckoned to be read: Will you?

He didn’t prepare any speeches. He knew he probably would’ve been too nervous to remember them anyways. He spoke from his heart – the exact place that won me over in the first place. And then he spoke the only words I remember hearing,

“I just love you so much. You are everything to me. I was just wondering, if you would spend forever with me?”

I can’t precisely describe the range of emotions coursing through every vein, every nerve. I nodded a very quick yes, and muttered a “yeah” before he took me up in his arms and held me tight. It didn’t feel real to me. We had talked about this moment for months. We had talked about marriage for months. And here – right now, this second – he was proposing. It was wonderfully surreal, and as if I was watching from a distance as it all played out. And then as the song repeated, he delicately took the ring from the box. The exact ring I had picked out 8 months previously. And he slipped it on my ring finger (after almost slipping it on the wrong hand). And he held me. And I put my head in the nook between his neck and shoulder, I just cried. And he cried. And we just breathed. Breathed in the scent of tea-light candles. Breathed in the emotion that sat so heavily in the room—the anticipation, the excitement, the pure joy that ran like currents through my living room. We were engaged. At last.

And after letting me go, I found the video camera that Adam had so discreetly placed on the barstool. He had captured the entire thing on video. He knew how much I wanted this event documented, but he also knew how much I needed to be solely with him. He wanted this even to be intimate. He wanted me to feel comfortable. He wanted it to be like it always is…just the two of us.

Then we brought bags from the car into the apartment. And we poured a glass of wine. And we cuddled. And took pictures. And reveled in this moment. That can now only be relived through the screen of a video camera. No other time will we feel the calm that comes after the rush of asking someone to spend forever with you.

He surprised me. He surprised me real good.

And then finally, without making me become Kate Hudson from Bride Wars, he willingly told all his secrets. How he had bought the ring six months ago. When he talked to me dad. How he planned to propose the Saturday I thought he was going to, but how he texted his friend who was going to help him, “Abort! Abort! She knows!” How it wasn’t completely my fault because the weather would’ve been too bad for a beach engagement anyways. And how he was happy. And I was happy. And we were in love.

We laughed and clinked wine glasses. Toasted to our future and spending forever together. And then we quickly settled into “us.” A new “us” but still the same. It all felt real then.

As we let the candles burn until they were out, he cuddled me and held me close. Whispering how lucky he was and how much he loved me. And I knew. Right then.

I was the luckiest girl alive.

And I still am.

We have traveled the road like many others before us. We have enjoyed meadows of sweet beginnings and faced paths with resistance. We have experienced love that’s so overpowering that none can stop it. And we have stood in the midst of conflict deciding whether or not we this is a life we want. Arguments that end in tears and tickle fights ending in laughter. Harsh words and soft touches.

All of it, my friends. We have a relationship full of joyous, good, raw, and rich experiences.

And that has made the entire journey beautiful…and more importantly, worthwhile.