The Proposal.

People are dying to know, and since I've already told the story a million and one times, I decided to write it down so I didn't have to tell it again. Not that I mind telling it. It's just that I think maybe I should have a written record of this sort of thing.

So, ever since I moved to Guam, my dear, dear boyfriend has said that he wanted to marry me "someday." He's spent MONTHS telling me how much he loves me, how he can't wait to spend forever with me and how one day we're probably going to have a daughter that'll give us as much hell as I gave my mom. He even asked about my ring size.

It got so bad, that one day I said, "Look, baby. I love you to death. And I can't wait to spend my life with you. But I'm not saying one more thing about a wedding or a marriage or kids until I have a ring on my finger."

And that was that. Almost.

Every once in awhile he'd slip up and say things like, "Where would you want to get married?" And so on and so forth. And every time, I'd just look away, smile and reply, "Not without a ring."
I knew something was up when he came back from San Diego on his work trip. He was cheesing so bad he could barely look at me when I ran up to him at the airport. ... That boy can't hide anything from me, I swear.

Well, from then on it was just a waiting game. I had assumed maybe he'd propose on our one-year anniversary (this upcoming weekend). But about a week before, on Thursday night, I got antsy. He brought up something along the lines of "Baby, when we have kids ..." and I just lost it.
"We're never gonna have kids! We're never gonna have kids because you're never gonna ask me to marry you! I know it! You're never gonna ask me!"

I was half laughing the entire time, but it must have been hormones or something because the other half of me was serious. He said, "Well, how do you know I haven't been carrying a ring around in my pocket this whole time just waiting for the right opportunity?"

"Come here!" I said.
So he did, and I patted down his pockets.
"See? I didn't think so!"

He just laughed at me, and we ended the conversation there. Everyone that knows me knows I'm impatient as hell. So I'm not even gonna try to make excuses for that one.

The next night, Friday, we were lounging around the house at about 7 p.m. We had planned on going out to meet friends, but we weren't in a hurry. He wanted to go out and eat, but I decided to cook tacos instead.

So there I was, in the kitchen chopping an onion when he comes up behind me.

"Put down the knife and turn around," he said.

"Baby, I'm doing something. Can't you see I'm trying to make you dinner?"

"Just do it!"

So I sighed, turned around and he met me with a big hug. "I'm gonna marry you some day," he said.

I kind of laughed and thought to myself, "Here we go again. Some day."
Then all of a sudden, he gets down on one knee and pops out a ring.

"Will you marry me?"

I was so shocked all I could do was look at him, look at the ring and say, "My gosh, baby! I'm cooking dinner!" He just smiled and said, "Well, is that a yes?"

"Well, of course it is! Yes! Yes!"

So, that's that. I'm finally engaged to the man of my dreams, and there's no way in hell I could be any happier. I think we've both known for a long, long time that we wanted to spend forever with each other. We were just playing the waiting game because it was what we were supposed to do.

Hope you enjoyed the story. If any of you know us, I'm sure you know that this proposal was better than any fancy dinner or any sunset surprise he could have thought up. It was just us. In our home. On the best Friday night of my life.

We'll let you know when we plan on getting hitched.
Love you all!
-The Future Mrs. Lawson

Searching.

I have a friend who's searching.

I have a friend who has no idea where her life is going, no idea what move to make next or if her next decision will be the one that finally leads her where she's supposed to go.

She is absolutely gorgeous, and has one of those laughs that make you want to dig up every old joke you've ever heard. One of those smiles that can change the mood of a room. But ... if you really look, you would know. She's searching for something that's not there.

I see her better than most, I suppose, because I see in her eyes what I used to see radiating from my own. What I used to feel when I would see other couples or other people who knew -- without a doubt -- what they wanted to do with their lives.

It didn't matter if they were lawyers or mothers or secretaries or politicians I used to interview back in my days as a reporter. If I saw that certainty, I was jealous. Because even though I may have looked like I had it all together, I didn't know anything.

I used to be weighed down so much by what I'd lost. The people I no longer had with me, the jobs I could have had, the educational trek I should have taken ... I never knew what it meant to be secure in how things were.

I almost had myself convinced that the certainty I saw in all those other people's eyes just wasn't in the cards for me.

Almost.

Things are different when you're no longer searching. They're different because you find the kind of love you read about in storybooks, and you come to terms with the career choices you've made. You realize, almost catharticly, that everything you've ever wanted is right there.

It's there on late Saturday mornings when you decide to eat breakfast in bed. Or Friday nights when you say, "Babe, let's stay home tonight." And it's there during the week when you finally get that big project done and your boss says, "Good job. Now about that other thing."

Everything I could ever want is with me. In the very fiber of my being, which I didn't even understand when I heard people say before.

I'm finally at peace. Finally at an understanding with God and the world that everything will always, always turn out as it should.

Sometimes, just after the laughter from my jokes wears off, I want to say to her, "It's OK. Everything will be all right. Just go where the wind takes you."