The Real Proposal

“How did Daddy propose?” asked my eighteen-year-old daughter a couple of weeks ago.

My husband smiled at me and answered, “We were on our way up Little Cottonwood Canyon when I said I’d be willing to take you…”

“No, no,” I interrupted. “You’re thinking of that other time. That wasn’t the proposal. You proposed in front of the fireplace at your mom’s house. It wasn’t even a real proposal,” I explained to my daughter. “He just said, ‘What would you say if I asked you to marry me?’ and I said, ‘Yes.’”

The time in front of the fireplace happened two weeks after our drive up the canyon and one month after we met. It was nice, but it wasn’t as meaningful, powerful, or romantic. I never let the canyon experience count because at the time I was in a very serious relationship with someone else. Roger and I started going out during one of the times I tried to break up with the other guy.

My memory is faulty and my perceptions are often worse. After our conversation, I kept thinking about the fireplace proposal versus the canyon experience. I dug through old journals. Eventually, I decided he’s right. It was on the way up Little Cottonwood Canyon, on a clear, starry night that Roger proposed.

On December 12th, 1988, Roger and I had dinner together at my parents’ house and then watched a movie at his. After the date, I wasn’t ready to go home. I knew I needed to be open and honest about my feelings, so I suggested we drive up Little Cottonwood Canyon and see the stars. As the car wound up the twists and turns of the canyon, I unwound my relationship with the other guy. I explained some of our problems. Roger impressed me by the way he listened.

“My mom said she’s okay with him as long as he is willing to take me to the Celestial Kingdom,” I told him. I’d made it clear it was doubtful that would ever happen.

Quietly, Roger said, “I’d be willing to take you there.”

I went silent. I felt tingly and overwhelmed with surprise. I’d been chatting away about this other guy, all the while failing to realize the level of Roger’s feelings for me. For a long time, I said nothing. Eventually, I told him how much I was beginning to like him.

The other guy evaporated. Time disappeared. We’d driven as far as we could go, up to where the gate was locked, the road blocked because of snow. We got out of the car and walked into the cold, clear night and gazed at the stars for a long time. We hugged to stay warm. We played the game where whoever sees the most falling stars wins. He won. Then, he drove me home.

When I got out of the car, I felt light and happy. I leapt across the irrigation ditch in front of my parents’ home. As I crunched across the snowy front lawn, I felt like I was surrounded by little angels crowding in to hug me. I felt they were my future children, rejoicing.

Six days later, I found the courage to permanently break up with the boyfriend. Two weeks later, Roger “proposed” in front of his mom’s fireplace. Less than two months later, we were married. It all began with that timeless moment on our way up Little Cottonwood Canyon.