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Although the occasion would, of course, be special to us, I wanted the time and place to have particular meaning as well. I decided against asking her via billboard, sky-writing, and/or stadium big screen announcements because, well, I'm more of an understated kind of guy. I chose instead to take her to the one beach we often frequent, and ask her on our first anniversary of dating (June 29) as the sun set. Now, sunsets for Sharon are a big deal - each one is beautiful and special. She never speaks of a bad sun set, just like I never speak of a bad Beatles or Dylan song (each of these, by the way, to our mutual consternation).
I brought some chocolate mousse and my radio out with us onto this finger-like peninsula into Lake Huron in Grindstone City, MI (town motto: "We're the place for all your grindstone needs.") I was pretty sure Sharon knew something was up because the radio and the mousse were unusual sunset-watching fare for us. With only a few minutes left before the rosy rays were extinguished, I played Peter Himmelman's song "Seven Circles" (henceforth to be known as "our song".) I had only heard the song twice before this day, but I knew it had to accompany the proposal (beating out Dylan's "Wedding Song"). As the final chords chased after the sun, I fell to one knee, told her how much she meant to me and asked her to marry me, bribing her with a diamond ring all the while (I'm told that's the way it's done).
She said "Yes" although I was too nervous to remember her actually responding and, as much as we would have liked to bask in the moment whilst atop the beach rocks - the truth is - bugs started coming out and we high-tailed it to the car. Don't feel too bad, though, because we have the rest of our lives to bask in our love together.
-Dave
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