Everyone's engagement story is unique and amazing and it was difficult for us to choose just one. At the heart of a good story is it's ability to live on even after the event has ended. In Susan and Chad's story they celebrate the moment and have a personal historic monument where they can revisit and celebrate.
Here is their story....
The only clue I had was that he wouldn’t let me pack his kayak, which I always do. And, I suppose, looking back on it, it was strange that my mother didn’t call me back all week, after I’d tried her several times. On a gorgeous July afternoon, we paddled across Turbat’s Creek in Kennebunkport, Maine, where I had first met Chad’s family five years before. And, where I had been encouraged by his father, whom I’d met just hours before, to leave my wet bathing suit hanging on the line at the cottage before heading out for a moonlit swim. We paddled over to Vaughn’s Island and set up our camp on the point looking out towards Stage Harbor with its snugly moored colorful lobster boats. We had brought out a piece of salmon to grill and a bottle of wine. I started to begin dinner preparations, when Chad disappeared for a moment. After he’d been gone for longer than seemed usual, I called out to see if he was okay and he replied in the affirmative. Suspecting perhaps a stomach ailment, I dismissed it. But, then, he called out, “Come on out here, there’s something I want to show you.” Being a marine biologist, I was expecting some strange creature on the reef. Indeed, we did find a blue lobster the next day. But, instead he pointed down to the sand and said, “The snails have something to tell you.” I could tell that there were snail shells arranged in a pattern and looked down, puzzled, for several moments, before Chad gently rotated me to adjust my viewing angle. My first clue was the bungee cord at the end, which was shaped like a question mark. Then, I finally made out the rest of the words. I apparently forgot to answer for long enough that Chad finally said, “So? What’s your answer.” “Yes, of course, yes,” I said. He then got down on his knee, teetering on rocks and seaweed and asked me in his own words and presented me with a ring. It took quite a bit of effort to get the ring on my finger, as I had apparently at one point blurted out my ring size and had been quite wrong. But, we got it on, despite salty, swollen fingers. That night, we sat on the beach and watched fireworks in the distance, which we later found out were for Bastille Day, but seemed planned just for us. And, we called our parents, who knew the plan all along and were afraid to spill the beans. Afterwards, we collected the snails and put them in the now-empty bottle of wine we’d brought out. For the last seven years, nearly every night we have lit that bottle-turned-oil lamp on our dinner table and often recounted the story to curious dinner guests.
My heart just melted! Such an amazing story!
Posted by: wedding registry | April 16, 2010 at 03:30 PM