He asked me to marry him on Flag Day; not by plan, just by happenstance. It does make it easier to remember. Since I had another year of night classes to finish we decided to marry the next spring. Thus began one of the busiest years of my life. I worked full time, planned a wedding, worked at a camp for a week, attended night classes and music lessons, talked on the phone to my fiance [a lot], totaled my car, house hunted, directed children’s choir at church, completed marriage counseling, did the normal things like eating and showering, and celebrated each month of our engagement.
Around the middle of each month we would do something more active than sitting at each other’s houses and watching movies. We went to several live shows from high school to dinner theaters. We went bowling and bought each other chocolate. It’s mostly a blur with occasional times standing out in my mind. The time he cooked a dinner and brought it to my house. The time I cooked for him and we ate at a card table in my parent’s living room by candlelight. The Easter basket he assembled just for me. Him bringing lunch to me at my work. The valentine’s day I had to leave church for work and found a gift in my car. And always the letters back and forth.
He was working third shift and I would call him during his lunch break – in the middle of the night! We’d talk for 10 minutes and I’d go back to sleep dreaming of him.
One morning he came straight to my house after third shift. My mom, he, and I headed to the courthouse to apply for our marriage license. He also applied for a gun permit the same day. It’s kind of funny, but I didn’t mind. He was tired and checked the box saying that he was not of sound mind. The employee was kind enough to tell him to check his answers. Guess the wedding planning was getting to him too.
Looking back there are many things I would have done differently with my actual wedding, but it’s the marriage that counts. Soon everything was ready as it was going to be.
The links for the rest of my story are on My Romance page.