July 4th, 2013.

I had not missed one Independence Day with Hannah since we got together.  Working from 2 to 10:30 on this one was especially discouraging.  I honestly had no idea I was going to propose, and in fact was planning on having to spend another couple weeks plotting and thinking and trying to make this be an event my future wife would love to tell her friends and family about over and over again.

But as I put my hand to the plow, so to speak, the most amazing boss ever gave me the best news I'd had in days.  I could leave an hour early.

Business was agonizingly slow, and the hours ticked by.  I had it all planned out- I would leave at 9:30, get to Mason by 10 and hopefully catch the fireworks with a girl that lights up my sky already.  

It was around 6 that I began pondering the possibility of proposing too.  I mean, showing up last second, the darkness pierced by exploding embers of liberties glorious above our heads.  It would be romantic, right?  Tim walked in the door a short while later, having come from the party and reluctant to have done so.  I instantly asked what he thought of my idea, and he said it was a good one.

Still, I had doubts if this would work or not.  Would it really be everything I had hoped?  Even as I was given the go ahead to leave at 9, I still didn't know, but after hurriedly driving to my apartment and changing, praying I didn't smell like tacos, and undoing the mess my hat had made of my hair I grabbed a bag of sparklers.  And the ring.

I pulled into the Ingham County Fairgrounds and parked among the family's vehicles.  The sun was just beginning to set, and a chorus of celebratory lanterns was rising from the field crowded with men and women still free.  With many surprised greetings I went from circle to circle, expressing my thankfulness for being able to enjoy even a portion of the day with them.  Sparklers were distributed to young and old from my private collection, entertaining them until the dusky curtain rose for the beginning of the fiery act.  

Hannah suggested we retreat to my car.  Through exclamations of wonder and surprise we talked about the day, sharing thoughts and feelings.  The ominous question repeatedly leaped to my mouth during the crescendos of the explosions- if I was to ask her tonight, it had better be beneath the finale.  I withdrew the ring box subtly, opening it out of her sight, and while I am certain I missed that one moment I was waiting for, I nevertheless asked.

It wasn't until she said "It's dark" that I realized that it was, indeed, dark inside my car, and that the ring itself was not illuminated very well within it's case.  The first thing I could think of saying was "I'm sorry", and it was then that she said "Yes".

The rest of the evening went by rather quickly.  I recall a lot of hugging, even more hand shaking and congratulations, and running after Hannah as she psychotically paced forty-four strides from the approximate location of the proposal to the nearest telephone pole.  Beyond that, you'll have to ask her.

But as I laid down to sleep in my apartment, I sent a one word text to Tim.

"Success."