So . . .

Sunday night. The day after Jen and Mark’s beautiful wedding, and a day of rest for the rest of us!

Late afternoon, Michael tells me about taking me to dinner at the Stanhope Beach Resort, up the road from my parent’s place. I am excited to see the place and try it out, and he is up for his first lobster of the season.

So I go up and get ready, entirely unaware that, while I am in the shower, he is asking my parents for their blessing as he has purchased a very particular ring. He is far more nervous about asking them than me.

I come down, and we hang out for a bit while this large thunderstorm passes through (waterspouts on the south shore). Mom makes this point of leaving a nice sweater out for me and tells me to put on a little lipstick, which in of itself is not strange. My father somehow does not blurt anything, or smirk, or giggle, and talks rapidly about everything but.

So we’re off. And we have a delicious little meal — lobster for him, scallops for me, and white wine. It is nice, and the sun has come out and we can see the harbour and lighthouse and sea from the window.

It isn’t strange at first that we go for a walk after eating, as I want to see Paul’s garden and the hotel after renovation and maybe snatch a chocolate chip cookie from the lobby. There is a large white tent in back and we skirt it, and then well away from the hotel towards cliff’s edge.

At this time it sets in that something is afoot. Although I think maybe he just wants to see the view of Covehead Bay and a quiet moment. The reds, greens, and blues are always more intense at the outset of sunset . . .

But I am nervous and I start jabbering away about some silly story involving my old dog Ben and his misadventures around the lodge nearly twenty years ago. We stop at the edge and I’m still narrating and he’s just nodding.

Then he tells me that he brought me there for a reason, and I stupidly back away out of this swelling of emotion inside and nervous laughter. And he brings me back and there is this ring in the box and the view is so intensely beautiful and he doesn’t have a chance to kneel because I am already “yesyesyes!!” . . . and hugs follow. The blue herons, solitary blues, are just standing still where they are, and the clouds are rimmed silvery-yellow, and we are so happy to be there.

Of course, his whole family knew ;P

And that is my story, with mushy sentimental details intact.

I’ve been beaming like a little goof all week.