Happy Engage-a-versary!

(Sinatra Drive in Hoboken, NJ, November 19, 2008)

Four years ago tonight, the moment above occurred. Miraculously, Jeff managed to stun me into speechless surprise; the look on my face is no trick of the camera or well-acted choice--it's complete and total shock as a tiny ring box opens.

It's actually a miracle we even got to the point of the ring box, to tell you the truth. Not knowing any possible reason why Wednesday, November 19, might be a significant day, I had already canceled my own engagement by throwing a tantrum about how we couldn't afford to go out to eat. Once we got over that hurdle, friends set me up to pick the "right" restaurant for dinner (Trinity, the location of our first date), yet I chose Cuban for no apparent reason. The night of the actual engagement, a meeting ran late at work, and then the friend who was bringing me to Hoboken ran late, all resulting in a very anxious future fiance pacing the river. All that is to say nothing of my attempt to go directly into the restaurant--rather than to the bench where Jeff sat (it was cold!), or my three interruptions of the proposal-I-didn't-know-was-a-proposal.

Finally, Jeff got to the end of the words he'd planned for months: "You've swept me off my feet; I'd like to sweep you off yours for the rest of your life." And what did I do? Offered a "That's so sweet," followed by a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, followed by standing and stamping my cold feet. As a result, the moment above is the direct result of my endlessly patient husband sharply calling "Tory!" and opening the box I didn't even know he had.

Little has changed in four years. Jeff remains endlessly patient, and I continue to interrupt the majority of his important speeches. I still try to control where we go and when we go there, and he still beats me to the punch some days. And, no matter what, November 19 has always remained as our day--our own personal holiday. I somehow always manage to forget the exact date, but Jeff never does. There's always a card on my bedside table in the morning or flowers when I get home from work. This morning, there was a small pile on the butcher block in the kitchen: soft, fuzzy socks, portable hand warmers, and a card that read "Let these gifts warm you as you always warm me... or at least... warm those cold piggies [toes and fingers] of yours." This day--our day--marks the beginning of when we knew our life would be together always.

How honored I am to call this man my husband, the one I pledged to love forever and a couple of extra days.