The Anniversary of an Almost Perfect Day

Lots has happened in the last weeks, but I'm not ready to blog about it yet. Still clotting.

This week, though, Brad and I celebrate the one-year anniversary of our engagement. I thought I'd post my story of that day to remember what an almost-perfect day it was.

AN ALMOST PERFECT DAY (written in May 2008)
Imagine this scene with me:
It was a breezy May afternoon in Nashville along the banks of Percy Priest Lake. The air was cool and the sun was warm, the sailboats drifted, and the geese glided. Kids splashed in the water, young men hunted catfish, and ducklings hurriedly paddled to stay behind mom. A picture of serenity, of perfection. Almost.

The situation of my relationship with Brad has never been quite perfect. We fell in love ten years after we really knew each other. We lived in different states. We had different goals for our lives. We had lost touch over those years, and though we were still friendly, we weren't really friends. My most vivid memory of him, which he still denies, is sitting at lunch our junior year, watching Brad suck off the remaining bits of meat from my fried chicken bones. Enchanting.

And then came last Spring. After months of laughing, crying, comforting, and getting through some of the hardest times of our lives by supporting each other, we had built a friendship. One day we realized that our lives would never again be complete without the friendship of the other.

And then came the Summer. One date led to another, led to months, led to thoughts for the future. Such a perfect relationship. Almost. Our time near each other was ending. In August, I moved back to Texas.

And over those months, many miles were traveled, many prayers were spoken, many reassurances were made. We learned to communicate, we learned to disagree, we learned that our lives were both individually and collectively important. But it was never quite perfect, and it certainly wasn't easy. But we plowed through.

Those months bring us to our opening scene on that breezy, lakeside day. Now this day was not perfect, either. I was still hobbling from a recently sprained ankle. We were in Nashville to find me a place to live in my not-so-perfect transition from Austin. But we were determined to enjoy this beautiful lake in the middle of the city. And so we walked-- I hobbled-- past the catfish hunters and the kid splashers. We watched the ducks and the ducklings and the drifting sailboat and settled onto a big rock to rest my ankle and enjoy the day. I wanted this day to be perfect, as my life was about to get really hectic. I wanted the serenity and the peace of just being with my Brad.

Sitting on the big rock, I reached for Brad's hand and fussed when he kept it balled in a fist. I started to bury my hand into his, and in one perfect movement, Brad slid down to one knee and opened that hand. With a perfect sentence heard through my simultaneous laughter and tears, Brad asked me to marry him. The perfect diamond ring sparkled in the perfect May sun, shimmering. Laughing and crying, I promised my life to him and accepted his perfect proposal. It was all so perfect and everything I always wanted-- the weather, the lake, the rock, the proposal. So perfect. Almost. Brad tried to put that perfect ring on my right hand, not my left! I told him he had the wrong hand, and he responded, "Well, I don't know how to do this! I've never done this before!"
And we laughed and hugged and cried and kissed.

And in that moment of Brad sliding the ring on the wrong hand, I realized. All of this time, I've wanted the perfect situation for our relationship. I wanted to be in the same city. I wanted to have known Brad for the past ten years. I wanted to be able to share our lives by living in the same city immediately. I wanted Brad to know which hand to put the ring on. But that's just not us. We've never had the perfect situation. And I believe that because of our non-perfection, we have achieved a friendship and love that has been tested and that will last.

Our perfection comes in the struggle, in the figuring out. In the adventure.

And I can't wait to seek that perfection, sprained ankle or not, ring on the right or left, for the rest of my life.

I love Brad Baker, and I'm going to marry him.