Did you really want love? or are were you merely searching for wedding bells?
The first ring, the Finder’s Keepers Promise ring, He gave to me after the first storms We survived in twenty-eleven. It was a comedic, hard to explain, yet beautiful compliment to my bare wedding finger. Might I add a tight compliment, being that it was a slightly misshapened, in need of a good cleaning, white-gold cubic zirconia beauty Frank found while stocking candles at Wally-World.
Two years later We would find ourselves in complete and youthful bliss living in his parent’s basement suite–studying politics, chiefing daily, studying history, dead languages and metaphysics, while plotting coordinates on a sky map to our new world. I rose that Christmas morning to find a neatly wrapped box on the nightstand beside me—a stunning two-piece gold cubic zirconia engagement and wedding set —and yet despite his hankering, for Frank it was not the time or place to truly ask for my hand in marriage…and thus our song played on with no proposal.
Eight months later We proclaimed our nationality, together, on paper —and to us We were then wed. A month later— We are separated . . . by the one and only Hand of the Almighty. Frank went back toMaryland with the other half of my heart and my wedding band. We were then stripped of our comforts. Stripped of each other’s touch, and naïve illusions about life. We are broken. Angry. Confused. Forced into servitude of God, Self, and our families. Faced with many blessings . . . in disguise. Ultimately We are purged, but we emerged from the flames scorched, still smoking; yet not charred, and well enlightened. Thus eight months into our 13-month bout between reality and faith in things unseen my birthday came. And on our lovetrip at the Best Western right outside of my hometown, I woke, stretched, instinctively slide my arm beneath my pillow to readjust it and found a gorgeous stainless steel square-cut Topaz ring: For Weathering the Storm.
Then we made it. . . to the almost-now point. By month 13, we had our first place. We were back together. Career goals being finalized. Dreams prepped for realization. Family planning on the horizon, and lives on the come-up. It was Christmas day, 2016—our first one together with no loopholes or bittersweet goodbyes in sight. We were preparing for our drive down Virginia to spend Christmas with my family. We decided to open our gifts before leaving —and my gift was “hidden” down the hall in the studio. . .or so says the master roper-doper. I lead the way, but as I turn to enter the door my hand is grabbed, my stride stopped, and I am involuntarily turned to face a bright-eyed Frank kneeling in his basketball shorts and favorite Mann Co t-shirt, baring the most captivating sterling silver band with a sapphire teardrop and white crystals. And with very limited words—”I don’t know what else to say. . . .I think we’ve said it all . . . I asked your people yesterday. . .Your father gave me his blessing . . .” —he asked “will you marry me, again . . . ?
And finally after saying yes, again—We declared our Nationality on January 12th 2016. Subsequently, I added my wedding band back to its rightful place on my finger of charms. And so, We are now forced to set a date. Eh, here or there, we tend to lack cares for the wedding planning logistics, but our family and friends won’t give us peace until there is either a baby on deck or a celebration being had; probably both. . .So cheers! to our Celebration of Love . . .ah that is still TBA.
Love You All!