My husband can’t wait until Christmas. Not to open his own presents, but to give presents. He also can’t keep secrets, but that’s another blog. ; )
December 2007 found me largely prego. I like to think of that time as one of the happiest times of my life- up to this point. : )
One night, while I was in the kitchen in my sweats and an oversized tee shirt to cover my baby bump, the hubs came in through the front door of our apartment in a rush. I could tell instantly that he had something up his sleeve, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long before I found out what it was.
Sure enough, he then asked me to go sit on the sofa. I did so. He then nervously got on a knee. I remember my breath catching a bit, but I tried not to read into it- he would often get on one knee when I was pregnant to put his head on my tummy.
But then he said it. That question that all us girls want to hear: “Will you marry me?” Actually, he started with, “I was supposed to wait until Christmas day, but I can’t…” I remember him looking up at me with those gorgeously hazel eyes, all expectant and hopeful, and just slightly tinged with uncertainty. As if he thought I would decline.
Obviously, we know the ended of this story. We got married and lived happily ever after! Well, mostly. : ) Life isn’t quite a fairy tale, is it? But ours is still very, very good. And every December, I remember the proposal, and the love that made me say yes.
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