Flowers, tulle and Mason jar candles never had so much meaning – until last Tuesday.
Last Tuesday evening, as I sat in a torturously long Town council meeting filled with oh-so-exciting budget items, my boyfriend Chris preceded to text me strange messages.
Now, before you read too far into my texting during a council meeting, please keep in mind it was a budget meeting. I'm pretty sure everyone in that room was fighting off the Zzz's.
“Is it too late to call your parents? I want to ask them something about what I want to get you for Christmas,” Chris texted me.
Strange. He never calls my parents, I thought. Why wouldn't he just text them?
I briefly though, ‘maybe he's going to propose!' but quickly threw away the idea, as I did in Banff, at the CCMAs, at our last few anniversaries, Valentine's Days, birthdays and Christmases.
“Is your dad home, I want to ask him too?” he asked me.
Now I knew something was up and trying to pay attention to budget delegations was definitely not gaining much attention now.
“Where are the candles,” he asked a few minutes later. My heart began to race as I thought of sparkling diamonds by candlelight.
One of the councillors then invaded my daydream to ask about placing an ad at the Nouvelle. I shook myself back to reality and told them to contact Amber Cook, as “I'm just a little reporter,” I told them.
“Don't come in when you get here. Knock first,” Chris instructed.
Okay, he's either having a romantic, candle-lit bubble bath by himself and doesn't want me to find out or he's got something up his sleeve. And at this point, I'm really hoping it's not a bubble bath.
Finally, council is over. I grab the giant council package filled with pages of numbers I'll have to read over and over again the next day since I didn't pay enough attention during the meeting.
As I'm about to rush home to see what all this fuss is about, one of the council members asks me to wait.
“We're signing a card for Melissa Barr as a farewell gift, can you wait while we sign it and bring it to her?”
Usually, I love to mingle with council after a meeting but tonight all I want is to get home to figure out what Chris is doing and it's already after 9 p.m.
I finally get home and knock on the door. I hear Chris fumble around, unlock the chain (he had the chain lock and deadbolt on!) run to the other end of the apartment and yell, “come in!”
I walk in and at first it's pitch black. Then I see candles.
I take off my mittens, hoping he's got a ring for me. I even moved my promise ring off my left hand on to my right during the council meeting in hopes of receiving an engagement ring.
I walk into the living room and see a very nervous and excited Christofer dressed in a suit and tie with candles all around him.
I'm not going to give all the oohey-gooey details away, but long story short: he got down on one knee and I said yes.
It wasn't even 24 hours later when the texts, phone calls and Facebook messages began: “Future Mrs. Espinoza, what will your colours be? Who will be your bridesmaids? What flowers will you have? When's the big day?”
For now, it's too soon to answer any of those questions, although I do already have over 200 posts on a wedding Pinterest page I only started a few days ago.
But I think Chris is still adjusting to the idea that a wedding does in fact follow a proposal.
