The Proposal

One day, it's going to happen. The proposal from a man who loves me. The one moment when I'll wish for time to stop. The question that will be the second most important answer to the meaning in my life.

Yes.

My heart will swell; my eyes will burn, and my cheeks will ache, raw from smiling.

I will want to tell the world. Call my Mama. Call the papers, and shout my blessings from the rooftops. One day it will happen. The beginning of the rest of my life.
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I stood in the kitchen, clutching a red glass bowl in one hand while busying myself in the refrigerator, looking for the salsa.

I was famished. I'd just come back from fetching you at the airport and it was later than I would normally eat. My head was hurting and I couldn't wait for the food we'd ordered to arrive.

You had pushed me into the kitchen when I'd started to feel dizzy. "You need to eat, baby, " you chided. "We can't have you sick."

So there I was, still in the clothes I wore to work, a figure hugging dark purple dress, black tights and knee high boots. I was stooped over the bottom fridge shelf, holding the door open with a crutch.

I could feel you watching me.

You slowly laid your hand at the small of my back, careful not to cause me to startle.

"Jess," you whispered. Your voice was tender, different.

I turned to face you and watched you kneel, shakily, on both knees. The bowl dropped from my hand to the cream laminate floor in the tiny kitchen without shattering.

My breathing quickened. There was a pain in my throat. The pressure of anticipation. I'd waited for this for so long. For you. Specifically for you.

The next few minutes were a blur. You told me you loved me more times in 5 minutes than I'd heard in 2 years, and I knew you knew how I felt. I adored you.

You Loved Me Too. Me! You wanted me for your wife. For the mother of your children.

I was, you said, the only person you could ever love enough to marry.

You pulled me toward you and I grasped your shoulders, pushing myself against the wall.

You kissed me in a way you never had before. Deep and passionate but still soft. My knees buckled and feeling the sway, you placed your hand at my waist.

When you pulled away, I wanted to scream for joy. Call the papers. Call my Mama Shout my blessings from the rooftops.

There you were in my arms, my soon-to-be husband.

But I couldn't. Call my Mama. Call the papers. Scale the rooftops.

My happiness was a lonely place. A hard bench in a deserted wood meant only for two. You and me.

No one else would approve.

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One day, it will happen. The proposal from the man I love. Someone who loves God, Christ, and my soul, in that order.

My heart will swell; my throat will pulse, and my cheeks will ache, raw from smiling. And I will know that I have waited for so long for this moment. For you. For your love. But specifically for you.

Yes. You.