Blogger's Note: Seasons flicker. Sitting at the mall in front of Starbucks, I watch as kids run up to the waving Easter Bunny sitting on a colorful, Spring throne. I feel like it was just yesterday that I was sitting here writing something about Christmas as Santa was encouraging children to 'come, sit on my lap.'
One year has officially passed since I launched this blog. When I started writing Parenting with Lightsabers, I had this vision of sharing the love and life of Amelia from "Choosing a Name", to her birth "Amelia Krystyna", and to the misadventures of raising this Polish/American first-girl-of-the-family. I had plans to write about her older brother and all his toddler comedy. And I wanted to share with the world the labor and love that goes into being a multi-cultural family. I read a meme once that said, "I plan on giving you love, nurturing, and just enough dysfunction to make you interesting." That was sort of my motto.
But, somewhere along the way, the whole thing evolved. I started writing and kept writing, even after I left the page. I found that I liked writing once a week, but our lives just weren't interesting enough to provide enough material for a weekly update. So, I supplemented my blog with a story-format of how Joanna and I met, fell in love, and got married. Later, I started recounting some of the misadventures from my youth. And then I found a bit of futuristic fiction that I just enjoyed writing and wanted to share.
Sometimes, I wonder where this blog is going. If you look back one year ago, you'll find more pictures, better writing, and something that might actually deserve to be called 'Parenting with Lightsabers'. You'll find less bad language and you'll find 'Blogger's Notes' that aren't as long as the actual subject.
I look at the viewership graph as a means to determine my "success", because I don't really have another measure. The graph has gone up over 600% from one year ago. So somebody's reading this thing. I'm just not sure who. Does anybody have some advice for me? Maybe tell me what you like about this blog? What you don't like? If I knew what brings people to this page, I could focus a little more on that. You could comment on my Facebook page found here. Or you can comment below.
Today's feature marks the last chapter in the "How We Got Engaged" segment of mine and Joanna's "How We Met" story. I've promised it would be sixteen chapters with four phases in it. Today's episode is the last chapter in the third segment. If you would like, you can start from the beginning with Chapter 1 - the Tea Monster. But, that was a while ago. If you just want to read this chapter to see how I proposed to the Polish girl that stole my heart, then keep reading. You'll get the gist regardless...
Lastly, I'm formally requesting you give my "Listening to:" song a spin for today's episode. It really captured what I was shooting for in this chapter.
Listening to: City and Colour "The Girl"
As part of my post-shift duties, I finished refilling my salt and pepper shakers and rounded the corner of the server's station. Lisa jumped at my arrival but quickly exhaled her relief once she realized it was me. She loosed a guffaw of hilarity.
"What are you doing?" I slyly asked her as I sat the salt and pepper containers in their places.
Lisa had a styrofoam cup like the employees used for drinks in one hand. In the other she held a jar of pickle juice. She dumped out the contents of the cup, which appeared to be Mountain Dew, and began pouring pickle juice in its place.
"Is that Calvin's cup?" I asked her once I realized that she was standing next to the bussers' station which is where Calvin usually kept a cup filled with his favorite, green soft drink. She was jiggling to keep from outright laughing and the spectacle left me struggling in a similar way. She replaced the cup atop the shelf and set up position with me in the drink well.
I considered just leaving despite the exciting lure of a well-coordinated prank. I was going to take Joanna to the Garden of the Gods this afternoon. The forecast promised a perfect, sun-filled day which boded well for my plans of proposing to her. My hand couldn't seem to escape the magnetic pull of the ring that was in my pocket. I had been drawn to it all morning, mentally practicing the scenario, and thoughtfully assessing the likelihood that she would say 'yes! I decided that I would give this plot that Lisa was brewing some time to blossom before I left.
Thankfully, Calvin entered with a tray-full of dirty dishes shortly after I had made the decision to wait. He sat the tray down, delegated the glasses and plates to the appropriate tubs, and zealously reached for his drink.
Lisa and I, trying our best to neither laugh nor stare, busied ourselves with various, chaste tasks about the station. From the corner of my eye, I watched the unfolding of comedic genius as Calvin, hunched forward and head slightly tilted, awarded our patience with a rather generous gulp from his cup. The transformation of his expression from its neutral position to its horrific displeasure tilted on a steep grade that was memorable at every measure. The dawning realization that I was about to lose any hope of maintaining composure rapidly pillaged my already-unsteady countenance.
"Calvin! Dammit! You drank my pickle juice!" Lisa scolded.
For a moment, I felt confused and disoriented, as if I had missed something. Hanging on a thread that was about to break, I watched and listened. I was about to be schooled on how to conclude a prank.
"Umm.. like I said.. I didn't.." Calvin, uncertain about his plight, scrambled for understanding. I didn't express as much, but we were in a similar quandary at that moment. Where was Lisa going with this?
"Dammit. I've been saving that and you went and drank it!" Lisa walked over to Calvin and dramatically took the cup from him. She threw it in the trash and punctuated the gesture with a closing remark. "Well. So much for that. Guess I won't be able to use that pickle juice now..."
"Umm.. like I said... I thought it was my.. ummm.. Mountain Dew. I usually put it up..." Calvin, still squinting from the sour surprise, attempted explanation, but Lisa wouldn't give him any time.
"Calvin, you're going to have to start paying better attention. How would you feel if I drank something that was yours?" Lisa walked out of the station and into the dining room. I weathered a sober appraisal of the distressed busser as I, too, exited the station. Calvin appeared muddled in confusion as he rapidly stroked his tongue with his index finger.
Ready to explode, I released a gleeful breath. Lisa had ducked into a booth and had tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks. We exchanged looks as I summarized our feelings with "that was classic!" I knew we dare not chance a lengthy celebration however, because Calvin could be heading this way any second. So, I told Lisa goodbye and headed out the door saturated in giddiness.
I headed up the boat ramp and outside. The walk to the hotel where Joanna was living was a thoughtful trek. I had an outline of things to say when I asked her to marry me, but I didn't want to follow the schedule strictly lest the process appear mechanical. When the time was right, and I had to trust that I would know when, I would drop to a knee, produce the ring, and tell her how I felt. Not known for my patience, the anticipation was wreaking havoc on my self-control.
When I arrived at her room, I let myself in. Joanna was on the phone, so I motioned that I was going to jump in the shower. She absently waved me permission, so I took a change of clothes into the bathroom as she continued an austere conversation in Polish. I locked the door so that I could transfer the ring from my work clothes to my recreational attire without fear that she might walk in during the feat.
I quickly showered while happily singing an Otis Redding tune and wiped steam from the mirror so I could try on a charismatic smile that I might use later. I splashed on just the right amount of cologne and took an armpit whiff to make double sure that I didn't forget deodorant. Satisfied that I was as polished as I should be, I opened the ring box and took a final look.
My cheerful song paused as I practiced holding it at chest height and then at eye level. Should I present it with confident flair or humble desire? Just as doubt began to ivy into my plans, I slapped the lid shut and shoved it into my pocket. I opened the door and stepped into the hotel room.
Joanna was looking out the window, still absorbed in a tenacious Polish discussion with someone. Sitting on the dresser was a sack filled with chips and sandwiches she must have made for our excursion. A bottle of red wine was sitting next to it with two plastic cups stacked beside it.
"Jutro? Jutro??" Joanna's voice grew more intense as the dialogue continued. I began to wonder if I should be concerned.
"Tak, tak. Dziękuję." She pushed the button to end the call, but didn't turn to face me. She stared out the window, and I felt a perverse emotion that didn't belong. It was something apprehensive and foreboding. I didn't need to see her face to classify it; it was blatantly written on her slack body language.
A brief moment of silence prefixed a labored sigh. She lifted her head to speak, but continued to stare at something beyond the landscape. "That was Marcin," she began. I considered the verbal lull as an invitation to encourage her along, but the moment was too brief and my sensibilities too distracted. "Marcin is a friend of mine. He's also Polish, and he works for the same company as me. He called to let me know that he find out that the contract with the casino was terminated today. A ticket for Vegas has already been purchased for me. He thought he would tell me to brace myself, because they will be calling me any minute. I am leaving tomorrow."
I didn't need to see her face to know that she was crying. I didn't need to hold her to know that she was shaking.
Had I possessed one ounce of fortitude, I would have insisted that we make our last day count. I would have demanded that we continue with the day's plans and advanced my intentions per strategy. Had I one modicum of grit, I would have let her writhe and wriggle until I found a perfect spot and a momentous opportunity. Had I just one scrap of perseverance, I would have consoled and lamented a heartfelt ruse while I engineered a genuinely superlative proposal. But let's face it. I possess none of these things...
When Joanna at last freed her teary gaze from the window's view, she turned around to find me on one knee. Cupped in my palm, an opened box displayed a meager ring that looked nothing like the one I had bought. Every planned word and practiced expression had dropped and shattered on this disastrous improvisation.
Her hands immediately flew to her face and covered everything but her eyes which left me nothing to gauge my performance. I was shaking viciously. The only thing that I had wanted to do was to stop her from crying; and, now, I was committed.
"You are laced into my life now, and I don't think I could ever get you untangled." I paused to buy some time. If she would just move her hands, I could see how this was going. I could adjust accordingly. She didn't so much as blink. Scrambling to remember the words I had practiced, I came up empty-handed. The silence was unbearable, so I continued.
"I know how soon this is, but I'm out of time. I can't lose you. I don't want to lose you. I need to keep you with me here. I love you, and you are my best friend. Joanna, will you marry me?"
She looked at the ring, and then at me. And she nodded. Slowly at first, but then more emphatically. When at last her hands left her face, I could see that she was smiling. It was the biggest, brightest, most beautiful smile I have ever seen. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me into an unyielding, lover's embrace. When I, at last, wrenched myself free, I took the ring out of the box and grabbed her left hand.
"No wait!" she exclaimed. I thought that she had changed her mind, but instead, she changed her hand. "In Poland, we put it on the right hand."
I laughed and grabbed her other hand. I guided the ring to her finger when she stopped me again.
"No wait!" She looked a little more serious this time. She turned to me with a look of genuine concern. A dawning realization compelled her to pull her hand away and with a tone that betrayed nothing she said, "there's something you must do first!"
(to be continued...)
-- continued in the next chapter: "Chapter 13 - A Phonetic Appeal"
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