How it Went Down

As he remembers it:
It’s Wednesday and we’re flying to Boston, the ring is in my carry-on… so the TSA x-ray tech knows I’m going to propose along with my parents and Kelli’s. We get the rental car, get to our place for the night and I make sure that the ring survived the trip in my backpack intact. Thursday morning and we’re off to look at apartments. I don’t want to leave the ring in the room, so I take it with me for the day. We spend 14 hours in Cambridge looking at apartments and finally make a decision and talk the broker late that night—agreeing to meet him at 10:00 AM, Friday to sign the paperwork. It’s around this time that I realize we’ve come to Boston to look for an apartment and I have not brought my checkbook, since I was so focused on the proposal. Luckily, that’s a problem we can fix. So we sign the lease to our new place and then head out to Cape Cod, where we will stay at the cottage my grandparents bought many years ago. The ring has been in my pocket for two days straight.

After the typical Friday afternoon traffic and a stop to get beer and snacks, we finally reach the cottage at Mashnee. The first thing on our agenda—go directly to the beach where we can watch the sun set. We’re sitting in our chairs, overlooking the water, it’s pretty much perfect. The ring is now burning a hole in my pocket… but I wait.

Saturday, June 21, rolls around. We wake up, have breakfast, and pack a standard Flelli cooler for a day at the beach: beer, sandwiches, goldfish, water. It’s a beautiful day on the beach—sunny, slight breeze, a few clouds that look as if they’ve been placed purely for aesthetics. We pick a spot for ourselves and set up camp. But rather than sitting in a chair, Kelli elects to lay out on a beach towel. Disaster! How can I get on my knee to propose if she’s laying down? I try to persuasion: “why don’t you sit up here with me for a minute.” Response, negative.

She sits up to take a sip of water; I decide it has to be now. I can’t wait all afternoon—I’m pretty much incapable of conversation by this point already. I quickly spin out of my chair in front of her. But I’m wearing my hat and sunglasses—that’s not good; I want to look into her eyes. So I pull the hat off with one hand, the sunglasses with the other as I begin to speak. She looks bewildered at first, but recognition quickly washes over her face. While the proposal was eloquent as planned, the emotion of the moment has overpowered my brain. But somewhere in there I manage to pull the ring from my pocket, tell Kelli how much I love her, and ask her to be my wife.

You’re reading this on our wedding website, so you know how she answered.

As she remembers it:
The timing - of everything was so special. Eric and I had made a trip to Boston and after a 14-hour day, we found the perfect apartment and headed out to Cape Cod for some R&R.

When Eric began to propose, through the sporadic phrases and tears (and him removing his hat and sunglasses) I figured out what was coming. I don't remember most of the words he said: words reconfirming his love for me, and his commitment to and excitement for our relationship. Those are things I'd heard him say before. They are things I already knew in my heart. What I remember is him holding his grandmother's ring in front of me and asking me to wear it and be his wife. These words were new to me and so were the emotions that followed.

It was my parent's wedding anniversary and the first day of summer, and it couldn't have been more perfect. That's what I think of our relationship - one long, summer day at the beach. We sat on the beach, drinking beers, laughing, just loving the moment. We sat there until late afternoon - the parents were probably waiting for our call...

I remember waking up the next morning, thinking it could've all been a dream. I looked down at my hand and was quickly reminded it wasn't.