Two years ago this past Tuesday, Henry asked me to marry him.
The day he proposed was an interesting day. It was our year and a half anniversary. I was really, really hoping he was going to do it then, but so many things led me to believe he wasn't. It drove me crazy!
But then, in a magical turn of events, where magical means nothing went according to Henry's plan, we ended up at the top of a hill overlooking downtown Austin.
A hydrangea plant (which I now affectionately call our love plant), a handwritten note, a blind fold, unexpected rain, and some cold night air were involved. It was perfectly imperfect. Who needs perfection? Makes for a better story to tell the grandkids anyway.