Alison & Ado are celebrating and asking us to link up a favorite post to share.
Going through my archives, I flipped through posts about my kids and posts about running and dreaming and writing.
I kept coming back to this story, the story without which none of those other subjects would exist, at least not in the manner and beauty they exist in my life today. If you’ve already read it, feel free to click away, though I’d love it if you stayed to read again.
All week, our swimsuits stayed tucked into suitcases, tanktops and sundresses hidden beneath cardigan sweaters and, one night, a blackand silver feather boa purchased from a little store that didn’t mind usshopping with to-go cups of deceptively sweet hurricanes in our hands.
Cool air kept the infamous humidity at bay, hidden behindthe wrought iron fences embracing the lush yards of the Garden DistrictHome.
I planned one night of relaxation before driving back toMichigan, but raindrops and cloud cover meant the tiny, private pool wouldlanguish unused during our stay at Nottoway Plantation.
Wrapped in a sweater, I settle into a wrought iron chair inour courtyard, glad Ryan upgraded our room as a surprise. After the garish lights and bustle of BourbonStreet, the privacy is luxurious and surreal, aqua lights shining from the poolto cast a cool glow onto the stone walls barring us from any distractions.
Champagne flutes sit on the little table between us, pushedback slightly when we pull our chairs together, edges touching. He sips once or twice, then his glass isforgotten, effervescence bubbling to the surface like our conversation, naturaland effortless.
I relax. Even in thecool air, the chilled champagne is cold on my tongue, sweetly tickling the roofof my mouth before dancing dryly down my throat. The ornately detailed chair presses into my thighs,etching its pattern onto my skin like a memory.
My bare legs are ready to go inside before long, but Ryan takesmy hands in both of his, his warmth banishing the chill in the air.
Looking into his eyes, blue and grey and green, the coolbreeze grows still. Slowly, oureffortless conversation morphs into something else. The turquoise water bathes us in a reflectiveglow, powered by words that do more than ask a question, the question.
Tears prick at my lids but are whisked away by our matchingsmiles, the fierce tenderness of our embrace. Laughter bubbles as we realize he’s still on one knee, making our hugperfectly awkward and unforgettable.
He lets go of my hands at some point, because suddenlythere’s a ring nestled in black velvet, the sheen of platinum circling around to a diamond, made for myfinger, made for this moment.
Twinkling in the muted light, each facet reflects a newcolor, every color a promise. In itssparkles, I see our family, hugs of comfort and celebration, this ring circlinga finger bent and riddled with old age. I see a life together.
Our life together.
Forever and ever, yes.
Every MONDAY join us…
Write, post, link-up, share your story and your voice.Be part of carrying the weight of confidence and share our mission
to empower, inspire, and remind women, parents and children
that the time has come to celebrate ourselves!
Next week’s prompt: Priorities
(Remember you can also write on a topic of your choice.)
Choose a moment from your personal history and mine it for sensory detail. Describe it to us in rich, evocative details. Let us breath the air, hear the heartbeat, the songs, feel the fabric and the touch of that moment.
I’m also linking this over at the Lauren Nicole Gifts Blog, for their new monthly link-up.This month’s theme is “the best gift you’ve ever received.”