Brooke & I have known each other for more than half our lives. We had been dating for almost ten years when I finally asked the big question.
The date was December 30th. I had spent weeks preparing. I called Brooke in the late afternoon and asked her if she would like to go "out" to dinner. I told her I would pick her up in 15 minutes.
We drove to the park where we had our first date and began walking by the waterfall (a dam actually) where we shared our first kiss. We hadn’t been to the park together since that day, and I’m sure she was wondering what I was up to.
As the sun began to set, Brooke noticed a tent nearby, and I said that we should explore. Inside, the tent had been elaborately decorated with white linens, rose petals and candles. A space heater was keeping us warm while music played in the background. On a nearby table, a four course meal sat warming on a burner. I remarked that someone seemed to have gone to some trouble to set all this up, and that we should probably eat everything before they return.
After reminiscing, eating and drinking too much wine (me more that Brooke, hey… I was nervous). We took a walk around the now deserted park. There was still some snow on the ground.
Once we reached a particularly beautiful spot, I paused and gave her an album of pictures I had taken. The photos were all of places we had been together, only instead of people, there were signs in the foreground.
For example, one picture was of the empty ice skating rink were we had met (when we were both children) with a sign reading, "Do you remember the first time we saw each other?". Another picture was of a playground where we used to go after school with the sign reading, "Will you raise a family with me". After flipping through page after page of our our life together, she reached the last picture.
The picture was of the place where we were standing, the sign reading boldly, "Will you marry me?"
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