Four years ago today it was my dad’s birthday, the Athens Olympics were in full swing, and Micah asked me to marry him. So, Happy Birthday Dad, way to go Michael Phelps, and please indulge me while I take a trip down memory lane.
When we met, Micah had plans to move back to Ohio at the end of the summer and then go on to New York City to find a job. But that didn’t happen. Obviously. I threw a wrench in his plans (he was kind enough to reciprocate — which is why I did not serve a mission). We started dating with the express understanding that we had a limited amount of time. In two months Micah was moving away, and I would get my mission papers. Within a few weeks we began to reconsider the break-up plan and started considering other options. I bought a plane ticket to Ohio and we decided that we would enjoy ourselves as much as we could until our time ran out. And then we would choose either to go our separate ways or buy some more time together.
The moment of engagement was a rather quiet affair. No roses, no ring, nobody in the bushes waiting to serenade us. I’d spent the week with Micah’s family in Ohio and the two of us had decided on Thursday night as the big night. We went to dinner at P.F. Chang’s, and then started walking around town, as was our habit. I don’t remember exactly, but I’m almost certain we would have been barefoot, both carrying our sandals in our free hands. I also don’t remember what we talked about as we walked, but we walked for a long time. It had looked like it might rain, but by the time it got dark we still hadn’t felt a drop, so we just kept walking and talking. Then, as we were passing the library, it started to rain. We ducked under a tree and got right down to business. What were our options again? Micah would go to New York and get a job. I’d go on a mission. It would be over between us. Or we could stay together. We’d probably get married. I believe Micah’s exact words were, “Hypothetically speaking, what would you say if I asked you to marry me?” I gushed about how I thought we’d be great together, how I felt more myself when I was with him than I ever had before, how I would say yes. And so, having ever so subtly ascertained my opinion on the subject, he proceeded to his next question: “Well, then will you marry me?”
We savored the moment until the rain stopped, then went to Graeter’s to get some of the most delicious ice cream in the world (I got raspberry with chocolate chips). Micah called my dad to give him the news (You’re going to have a son-in-law!) and to ask him if he would agree to such a thing.
It was as close to a perfect night as I could have hoped for.