Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on propose.
It wasn't late yet but I was having a really bad day.
You came home and found me crying on the couch, I had another awful work day.
And I was tired.
I didn't love my career or where I was going.
I didn't love where we were living and it had been close to three years that I'd felt that strongly.
We decided to order out...Chinese...and just stay in.
You told me to stay put, and you would be back.
I went to the bedroom and put on cozy clothes. I just wanted to feel comfortable.
You had another thought.
On your way to grab the food, you stopped by your place and grabbed the ring.
As you tell it, it was burning a hole in your pocket and you just wanted to finally ask.
It had been almost five years.
Five years of actual us.
Happy, simple, years of us.
Nothing was complicated, nothing was heavy. It all felt like home, just like our very first day together, it felt like home.
As you came into the kitchen, ring in the bag of our take-out, you were shaking, crying a little, and had a goofy smile.
I thought you were inappropriately playing a prank...you told me to stop yelling because you were trying to propose.
You brought me into the family room.
Our puppy was by our side.
You told me that you loved me, your head buried in my chest.
You pulled out the ring and asked me, it was perfectly us Coach.
Perfectly imperfect us.