Love, love, love...sigh

February 13, 2000..that was THEE day. The day most girls dream of. The one I had only hoped for. The one I waited 9 years for. The day I was asked to be Marc's bride. His wife.

I remember the day as vividly as if it happened yesterday. Marc always said that when he proposed he would never do it on a date that it was expected. So I knew Christmas, New Years, Valentines and my birthday were out. Being the day before Valentines I never suspected...not even for a second.

We were enjoying a perfect day at Winterlude. Snow was softly falling. Marc was taking pics for his photography course he was taking at school. He took some gorgeous shots. (None of which are framed but should be.) We laughed, ate Beavertails, threw money in the eternal flame on Parliament Hill and made a wish. We enjoyed this perfect day. Marc with a custom made diamond Claddagh ring in his pocket, waiting for that "perfect" moment to pop the question. Looking back, there was a dozen "perfect" moments.

The moment he chose was in my parents driveway as we arrived for dinner later that day. I said I needed something from my bag in the trunk. The trunk opened and as I searched for what I needed, it happened.

Marc: So...what did you wish for today at the Eternal Flame?

Me: Marc, you know what I wished for

Marc: Did you wish for world peace?

Me: Nope (Although that is a truly honourable wish and no amount of money is wasted on hoping for this)

Marc: Did you wish I would get a snowmobile? (He had been wanting one for some time)

Me: Nope

Marc (as he pulled out that beautiful ring I wear proudly on my left hand): Did you wish I would ask you to be my wife?

There it was. The moment, the question I had been waiting for for as long as I had known him. The reaction that I had always imagined would happen was replaced with hiccups and sobs. I couldn't breathe. My heart hurt. My head spun. I couldn't find the one word that I thought would be so easy to say.

But I did say it, of course. I don't remember saying it but it doesn't matter. I remember the question.

And the item I was searching for in the trunk right before he asked? A tampon. Yup, a tampon.

Marc remembered me telling him once in a conversation that I wanted my parents to be the first to know when I got engaged. So as we arrived for dinner he wanted to honour that.

There was a dozen "perfect" moments that day when he could have asked as we drank hot chocolate and strolled hand in hand in a winter wonderland. But none more perfect than the one he chose.