When he announced he wanted to take
me window shopping, I knew what I wanted to think, but I dared not. When we
pulled into the parking lot of the jewelry store, my stomach did a mini flip
flop. I felt myself dissociate.
This was going to be one of those
moments and I didn’t want to do or say anything that might tarnish the memory.
I wanted to be excited; flush in love and gushing with
happiness. I wanted these next few moments to play out like a television
commercial, like a scene from a sappy movie. But I felt none of these things. Instead, my self-inventory revealed I wasn't prepared to be here. My clothes were all wrong. My fingernails
were frayed and my gray roots were in desperate need of color. What
disappointed me most was sensing our lack of innocence.
He
and I both know that rings and promises don’t guarantee a love will last. Forever is a relative term. Make no mistake: we want this to be something that will see us to our graves.... but we've been here
before. The glow-y
illusion of endless love is a bit lost on us, and I was sure everyone else in the
store could see our truth.
But
we soldiered on. Maybe a little less giddy and a little less indulgent then the other
couples in the store, but Hope carried us forward in our quest. We picked out a
setting and then a stone. He put some money down to hold the ring, telling the salesperson
he'd pay it off by July. Said he wanted to be able to call me his fiancée on
our second anniversary of being together.
A smile filled my face and I began to feel a little giddy - - a little indulged. I realized how much he wanted me to feel special. He wanted me to know I am loved.
And, he wanted me to have something to see, to touch, to show others that I am his. He knew I
needed this, and he made it happen.
In
the end, the moment was very special.
A Forever kind of special.
