Mr. Love proposed. He swayed my way like a beautiful tango by the sea. I had been adjourning that moment in my mind- I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know when the “right” time would come. I might have been expecting a poke from the Internet of All Things confirming that the time was right, or a blog post from Susan Miller urging all 32-year old Virgos to get hitched.
But Mr. Love proposed, so unconventionally, so randomly, as he has accustomed me to. And this randomness does me so well. It cools down the blown-out-of-proportion nerves in me, and soothes the train of what-ifs in my head. It gives me a breather, and gently carries me back to the “now”, and the now is a good place. It’s warm in the now. It’s fields beaming with sunflowers; it’s skies pouring tiny drops of glee; it’s rainbows promising more nows tomorrow.
Mr. Love proposed, and my heart and mind, for once, were in agreement. The “right” time paused and it all sank in. I’m right where I want to be. I’m right where I am meant to be. It’s me, the man I love, and that beautiful tango.