First up, our love story. Almost, 6 years ago, Dale and I headed to Alaska with the intention of canoeing down the Yukon River with our friend, Jarred. Due to heavy rains, we never got our canoes in the water, instead a different adventure began.....
An Unexpected Proposal
“He’s never going to marry you. Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free!” my lovable but opinionated roommate warned me upon hearing I was moving in with my new boyfriend.
Her warnings didn’t stop me. I moved in with Dale and thus began our domestic heaven. Our first day living together, we sat on the couch for hours holding hands, absorbing the intoxicating rays of light that shone through our downtown apartment. Dale and I had only been together 3 months but it had felt like an eternity.
I met Dale at a company party a few months back and the moment I laid eyes on him, my heart beat faster and my stomach churned with nerves. Since that night, we had become inseparable. He was different than the others. Dale asked me thought-provoking questions and engaged me in deep conversations about philosophy, psychology, and life. We watched movies and talked into the early morning when the sun barely peaked over the Cascade Mountains and the birds chirped harmoniously outside the window. He cooked incredible meals that aroused my taste buds in a new melody of flavor—herb-roasted chicken, pasta carbonara, and lemony artichoke risotto to name a few. Everyday, Dale walked me the three miles uphill to my college campus to make sure I arrived safely to class. And everyday we walked in perfect rhythm holding hands as though they were glued together. I was in love. It wasn't the innocent, 16-year old, lusty love—it was the "I see my future with this guy" kind of love. Before I knew it, I started daydreaming of our wedding and naming our future children.
My family came from all parts of the country for my college graduation. They all had varying opinions of Dale. My dad loved him and confessed to me that they must have had a past life together—an opinion that confirmed my conviction that Dale and I were meant to be. My mom liked that Dale stroked my long, dark hair and opened doors for everyone wherever we went. My grandparents, while they disliked his upscale restaurant career, appreciated his respectfulness and ability to talk to anyone.
I had wondered if Dale would ask them permission to marry me. We had talked about marriage and kids already and it seemed like the perfect opportunity. Alas, it didn't happen at graduation. It didn't happen at our 6-month anniversary and it most certainly did not happen on our spontaneous weekend trip to the beach. I was worried that maybe Dale didn't have the same feelings for me anymore. My mind chased away the cacophony of ugly thoughts—after all it had only been 6 months or perhaps my former roommate was right.
The sun, now uncomfortably hot made my throat parched and tender. For the first time in the 4 hours since I moved in, I tore myself from Dale's embrace and headed for the kitchen.
"Do you want to go to Alaska?" Dale called while I soothed my throat and nerves with cool water.
Alaska. An untamed and rugged place I'd always dreamed of going—the place Dale called home.
A few weeks later we found ourselves 30,000 feet high in clear blue skies headed north. When we landed I was left breathless by the cool summer air and a sun that hung in the sky—even at midnight. Alaska was beautiful. Every turn on the road presented itself with exquisite jagged mountain tops, emerald green forests, and majestic bald eagles perched in every tree. We drove to the Top of the World Highway, set foot in the Yukon River, and even ran out of gas just miles from the county's only gas station—it was surreal. Seeing Dale in his natural state, his birthplace, made me fall even more deeply in love with him. Dale was rugged, surprising, and inspiring—just like the state that had raised him.
As we drove around the Kenai Peninsula where beluga whales bobbed in the water singing their underwater symphony, I wondered again, impatiently, when Dale might propose.
"You know, I'm not going to propose in Alaska,” Dale stated as though he were a mind reader. He lovingly touched my knee and continued, “it is just too predictable".
My heart deflated a little. He was right though. Just like so many love-drunk women, I was obsessed, borderline crazy, and needed to let it go.
We continued our journey around Alaska. I met his unconventional family. What they lacked in missing teeth and hair, they made up for in unconditional love for Dale and me. We went whale watching, ate bear sausage, and saw salmon spawning in a creek. Dale calmed my fear of any possible bear attacks by loudly chanting “Down by the Bay” whenever we hiked.
Our last week in Alaska, we climbed Resurrection Glacier. The clear blue caverns of ice that surrounded the glacier almost whispered your name when the wind blew. By now it was almost the end of summer and the sun no longer hung in the sky. We set up camp alongside a babbling creek, tucked in between a forest of pine trees and a deserted highway. The stars twinkled rhythmically, the hot fire crackled, and our only company was each other and the occasional moose that passed by. It was absolutely perfect. Dale and I held hands and gazed into the embers of our campfire, recounting moments from our trip. It had been a blissful and adventurous journey—one that I was not ready to end. Little did I know, my real journey was about to begin because just as our last Alaskan campfire began to die out, Dale leaned in and asked "Will you marry me?"
6 years ago, at our proposal site near Resurrection Glacier
