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Jun 7, 2012
A Kitchen Proposal – and New Beginning
It sure wasn't a conventional marriage proposal. But for metro Detroit mom Shari, it was a perfect start to forever – and her unforgettable summer story.
Real love stories never have endings. You often hear friends retelling their stories of their proposals – moonlit evenings with candlelit white-clothed tables and champagne to toast the unforgettable moment. That romantic time filled with meaningful conversations, longing into one another's eyes, and waking up to chocolate-covered strawberries and ruffled sheets. Or something to that effect. Mine wasn't like that, though.
In fact, on July 13, 2011, I was quite sweaty, disheveled, and unsettled by the fertility news shared with me hours before. My eyes were puffy from crying so much, and I stood barefoot in the kitchen preparing dinner. Nevertheless, my beautiful daughter tugged at my jeans – asking me if the pot of water was hot or warm. My love walked in the kitchen and began to tell me how happy he was that we got back together on his 36th birthday (three years ago), and how happy he was that we have the life he always wanted. I told him that was nice and stuff, but suggested he put the corn on the stove so we could sit down for dinner, because the concert at the Detroit Zoo started in a half hour.
Our daughter, anxious to get in on the action, promptly requested to be picked up. And then he got on bended knee with her in his arms. He could barely get out the words, but I could barely hear what he was saying. Because all that mattered at that moment was the love that we felt. After over 14 years of loving one another through good times and bad, words didn't matter. We went on with our dinner; yet, I couldn't manage to eat. The butterflies in my stomach were nourishing my soul and I felt full.
My mom and dad came over and shared in the wonderful news. Scot recounted how he asked my father earlier in the day if he would be OK with our union. My dad said something quite profound. In so many words, he went on to tell Scot about the one question he would ask me during some of our turbulent years together in our 20s. He would ask me: Can you live without him – piece of paper or not? And he remembered me telling him no.
Our concert at the zoo was a blast. We had a chance to spend time with friends we hadn't seen in a while. We managed to sneak in a few kisses on the cheek. We watched our beautiful daughter frolic in the grass with her beloved Beem Beem and Pop Pop. We went home, baby and grandparents in tow. There was no kiss goodnight, or hope of chocolate-covered strawberries in the morning. Instead, my two loves fell asleep cuddling in bed together, while I sat writing down the moments leading up to the second best day of my life.
I don't want to ever forget the details of my proposal. Nor do I want Sienna to, either. I am at home, in love, and watching my fairytale unfold right before my eyes. Here's to another beginning.