She closed her eyes.
She imagined how it would feel, whether their fingers would interlock or cup one another, the first time he held her hand.
She imagined what she would see the first time she looked into his eyes. Their color, their brightness, that smile, their warmth, the gaze that would hold her there forever and never let her go, the gaze that would assure her that she was the only one he saw, the only one he noticed, the only one he wanted to dance with...the gaze that would banish the world and everything in it to the periphery...the gaze that she wouldn't be afraid to meet but afraid of falling for. Would he notice - would he appreciate, would he fall in love with - that something in her eyes, too?
She imagined the first time their paths crossed, the first time the curtains fell and they came face-to-face. Had he always been there? Would he be somebody new? Had he seen her for the first time and known? Would she see him the first time and know? Was it through the cracks between books on a bookshelf in the local library? Was it through a mutual friend? Did they almost run into each other when they turned the corner? Would he care to see her again? Would he fight to see her again? Did he see her at the grocery store in her pajamas on her worst hair day and somehow still know - know that it was her, know that she was a princess, know that she was beautiful, know that she was worth it?
She imagined how it would be to walk through the hurried streets of urban cool and metro chill, layers and labels and gray all around her, only to have his arms wrap around her while she burst into laughter because he refused to believe her insistent "I'm warm, really!"
She imagined how he might ask her. It wouldn't be, "Will you marry me?" It would be, "Will you be my wife?" She imagined the time of day, where they would be, whether the world would hush and wait in expectation, what song her heart would sing.
When she opened her eyes, she saw everything she had ever imagined, everything she had never dared hope for but always believed in, everything she had prayed for but nothing she had ever expected, completed in this man who had changed the color of her world when he told her, with one single question, that even though the world and everything in it was somewhere below and somewhere around the corner, today - today and for every day and eternity after - he wanted her to be his and he to be hers. And that was all that mattered to him.
She stopped imagining.
"Yes." "Yes." "YES!"
And then came those arms that refused to let her go.
She imagined how it would feel, whether their fingers would interlock or cup one another, the first time he held her hand.
She imagined what she would see the first time she looked into his eyes. Their color, their brightness, that smile, their warmth, the gaze that would hold her there forever and never let her go, the gaze that would assure her that she was the only one he saw, the only one he noticed, the only one he wanted to dance with...the gaze that would banish the world and everything in it to the periphery...the gaze that she wouldn't be afraid to meet but afraid of falling for. Would he notice - would he appreciate, would he fall in love with - that something in her eyes, too?
She imagined the first time their paths crossed, the first time the curtains fell and they came face-to-face. Had he always been there? Would he be somebody new? Had he seen her for the first time and known? Would she see him the first time and know? Was it through the cracks between books on a bookshelf in the local library? Was it through a mutual friend? Did they almost run into each other when they turned the corner? Would he care to see her again? Would he fight to see her again? Did he see her at the grocery store in her pajamas on her worst hair day and somehow still know - know that it was her, know that she was a princess, know that she was beautiful, know that she was worth it?
She imagined how it would be to walk through the hurried streets of urban cool and metro chill, layers and labels and gray all around her, only to have his arms wrap around her while she burst into laughter because he refused to believe her insistent "I'm warm, really!"
She imagined how he might ask her. It wouldn't be, "Will you marry me?" It would be, "Will you be my wife?" She imagined the time of day, where they would be, whether the world would hush and wait in expectation, what song her heart would sing.
When she opened her eyes, she saw everything she had ever imagined, everything she had never dared hope for but always believed in, everything she had prayed for but nothing she had ever expected, completed in this man who had changed the color of her world when he told her, with one single question, that even though the world and everything in it was somewhere below and somewhere around the corner, today - today and for every day and eternity after - he wanted her to be his and he to be hers. And that was all that mattered to him.
She stopped imagining.
"Yes." "Yes." "YES!"
And then came those arms that refused to let her go.
