sail away with me honey, i put my heart in your hands
Whenever I use the word fiancé and I try to do so sparingly, all I can think of is
“I wonder what happened to my fiancé, I know he's here somewhere. Ellen, have you seen my fiancé?”
“Are you going upstairs? Tell my fiancé I'm looking for him, I have lost my fiancé, the poor baby.”
“Maybe the dingo ate your baby.”
But it’s not a lack of joy on my part. It’s just that it’s not as if I hadn’t already known that this was It for me, this was the man I was going to grow old with. Getting engaged to him felt as normal and natural as breathing. It feels really good to have it be official but our relationship isn’t suddenly dramatically different and I don’t think it should be.But on the plane ride home the night of the proposal, I watched Husband to Be as he slept, listened to love songs on my iPod, thought about everything that has brought me to this point in my life and yes, stared unabashedly at the serious amount of sparkle on my finger, and just smiled. A lot.
Today as I was walking across campus, I passed under some trees and with a slow, sweet shower of pink and white petals gently raining down like a bridal benediction, I listened to Into the Mystic and visualized our first dance and it really hit me.
I’m getting married.
Sure, I’m really looking forward to throwing one hell of a party but what I’m most excited about is that I get to spend the rest of my life with the most amazing and loving person I’ve ever known.