Rushing

I have been rushing most things, trying to get places on time, to keep up to work, to get A where she needs to be . . .



Are E and I rushing things?



We spent the weekend in Montreal. After a walk and a lovely meal in a little French bistro, we returned to our Hotel for the dessert that A had been talking up for 2 days.



"Why don't you have some," I suggested. "I don't think I can eat anymore."



"Well, let's just open the champagne and you can look at it. It's really pretty," he replied.



So, I said, "Okay," and began peeling off the tape from the box, as he watched me. Then I opened it up, expecting to see some beautifully iced cake, and there a top a little cup of tiramisu was a shiny thing. It took a second before I gasped and turned to look at E.



"I love you," he began, "and I hope that we can be happy and find peace together. Will you marry me?"



I didn't answer. I was too surprised, I think. So he asked me again and I stammered, "Yes, of course, I'll marry you." Then I hugged him.



I managed to pull the ring out of the dessert and try it on. It was a large solitaire. It was what he wanted to buy me all along. It made perfect sense.



I don't think we're rushing. We're just establishing where we want to be, although it may take a long time to get there. I have to get out of a court order prohibiting me from relocating from Ottawa, for instance. We also have to choose the right time for three little kids. So. We aren't rushing, we're just starting again . . . and hoping.