Wow. It's a lot of heavier than you think. And I don't mean in grams or karats.
I got engaged yesterday. Officially.
Engaged. With the ring and the one knee and the tears. And it was just how it should've been. It was just right.
The story.
Dave works in a machine shop down on OSU campus, playing wth melted metal and giants of machining from the second world war, happy to end his work days smelling of coolant and wearing smears of oil and metal shavings. It's a world of manufacturing, which I had no concept of before meeting him. My dad writes something and shows me papers for work; Dave takes a block of metal and turns into something of practical use I can hold in my hand. It's a totally different world. I love watching, the deceptive look of melt-your-flesh liquid metal, the smell of cutting metal and grease, the movements of the machines. There's an unexpected art to it all, and an incredibly meticulous element.
Knowing that I like to watch him work, sometimes when a particularly interesting project comes along he'll invite me to come down to the shop and watch. So yesterday morning I biked down at around eleven to see him cast the mold for a microscrope mount before I went to work at one. I like watching him cast - while wearing a ridiculous protective suit that makes him look like an astronaut, he melts the metal with electricity and then pours it into a cauldron filled with sand. In the sand is a styrofoam mold of what he wants to make out of metal, and if the sand fills in the spaces completely, the molten metal burns away the styrofoam to perfectly replicate the model in metal. It's a fascinating process, and I got there just as he was about to finish melting the metal.
He pulled on the silver pants and jacket and fiddled with a few knobs to turn off the electricity. The mold was buried before I arrived, so he poured the metal into the cauldron of sand. We poked at the metal as it went from liquid to soft solid to rock hard. The next step in casting is to dump the contents of the cauldron into an adjacent sandbox for it to better cool, and he gave me the go ahead to do it myself. I love any opportunity to feel like I'm doing something. He handed me a set of tongs and encouraged me to pull it out so we could put it in the bucket of water to cool it. I began fishing in the sand for a good place to grab at it, wondering what exactly it looked like. From out of the sand a flat-end with lettering emerged, and I began to say "Did you put the company na--"...but felt my body tingle when the first discernible word beneath the grains was "HEATHER?" Unsure of what exactly was happening, I kept turning it and tipping the sand off, reading and rereading "WILL YOU MARRY ME, HEATHER?" plain as day.
I whirled and this space man, helmet and suit and all, was kneeling behind me. Every rational part of me was shutting down to give way to elation as I ripped off his helmet saying "Yes Yes Yes!!" kissing his wonderful smiling face. He held out the box and took out the ring as I shoved my hand in front of him. He hesitated, looking up and asking "Which one do I put it on?" MOST ENDEARING THING EVER. I pointed with the opposite hand. "This one...this one right here."
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Words were sucked from my mouth and trapped in my heart, warming as tears welled up. Details started to come. That he wanted to do it last week during finals week, but was encouraged by others to wait. That all the guys in his house had known it was coming. That he had met with my dad last Sunday. That he had talked to my mom and asked for her advice as well. And then came the texting. Who to text, how many to text. And man, it spread like wildfire. By the end of the day, 20 different people had texted congratulations, some of them surprisingly obscure.
Dave walked me to the bus stop and I was utterly useless. I was jumping people to show them the ring, receiving obligatory advice and cliches as a result. I can't stop looking at it. I keep thinking about strange things like bridesmaids and colors and flowers and locations and really girly stuff like that - girly overwhelms me.
Today, the day after engagement, is the three-year anniversary for Dave and I. Three years ago parked in my mother's drive-way, after kissing, we confirmed that we were dating.
"So you ever gonna ask me out?"
"I thought we were going out."
"Just ask me."
"Will you go out with me?"
"Of course!"
Three years. Three whole years of learning. Learning to argue, learning to trust, learning to love, learning to forgive, learning to talk.
I'm not kidding. Walking around work I felt the weight of the ring. I sense the decades and heartaches and troubles and fights and problems all bound up in this white stone, and know very well that I have promised myself to those as well. But it helps to know the days and weekends away and dinners cooked together and nights spent together and increased level of support and intimacy are just as intrinsically guaranteed.
I'm scared to death. But I trust Dave. I trust that our imperfections won't keep this from being good. I trust the love from my friends and family to help us. I know that he and I alone are not enough. But there's a God who promised to continue working with me as I live life, and I know I must trust that.
Wow. I'M ENGAGED.
I got engaged yesterday. Officially.
Engaged. With the ring and the one knee and the tears. And it was just how it should've been. It was just right.
The story.
Dave works in a machine shop down on OSU campus, playing wth melted metal and giants of machining from the second world war, happy to end his work days smelling of coolant and wearing smears of oil and metal shavings. It's a world of manufacturing, which I had no concept of before meeting him. My dad writes something and shows me papers for work; Dave takes a block of metal and turns into something of practical use I can hold in my hand. It's a totally different world. I love watching, the deceptive look of melt-your-flesh liquid metal, the smell of cutting metal and grease, the movements of the machines. There's an unexpected art to it all, and an incredibly meticulous element.
Knowing that I like to watch him work, sometimes when a particularly interesting project comes along he'll invite me to come down to the shop and watch. So yesterday morning I biked down at around eleven to see him cast the mold for a microscrope mount before I went to work at one. I like watching him cast - while wearing a ridiculous protective suit that makes him look like an astronaut, he melts the metal with electricity and then pours it into a cauldron filled with sand. In the sand is a styrofoam mold of what he wants to make out of metal, and if the sand fills in the spaces completely, the molten metal burns away the styrofoam to perfectly replicate the model in metal. It's a fascinating process, and I got there just as he was about to finish melting the metal.
He pulled on the silver pants and jacket and fiddled with a few knobs to turn off the electricity. The mold was buried before I arrived, so he poured the metal into the cauldron of sand. We poked at the metal as it went from liquid to soft solid to rock hard. The next step in casting is to dump the contents of the cauldron into an adjacent sandbox for it to better cool, and he gave me the go ahead to do it myself. I love any opportunity to feel like I'm doing something. He handed me a set of tongs and encouraged me to pull it out so we could put it in the bucket of water to cool it. I began fishing in the sand for a good place to grab at it, wondering what exactly it looked like. From out of the sand a flat-end with lettering emerged, and I began to say "Did you put the company na--"...but felt my body tingle when the first discernible word beneath the grains was "HEATHER?" Unsure of what exactly was happening, I kept turning it and tipping the sand off, reading and rereading "WILL YOU MARRY ME, HEATHER?" plain as day.
I whirled and this space man, helmet and suit and all, was kneeling behind me. Every rational part of me was shutting down to give way to elation as I ripped off his helmet saying "Yes Yes Yes!!" kissing his wonderful smiling face. He held out the box and took out the ring as I shoved my hand in front of him. He hesitated, looking up and asking "Which one do I put it on?" MOST ENDEARING THING EVER. I pointed with the opposite hand. "This one...this one right here."
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Words were sucked from my mouth and trapped in my heart, warming as tears welled up. Details started to come. That he wanted to do it last week during finals week, but was encouraged by others to wait. That all the guys in his house had known it was coming. That he had met with my dad last Sunday. That he had talked to my mom and asked for her advice as well. And then came the texting. Who to text, how many to text. And man, it spread like wildfire. By the end of the day, 20 different people had texted congratulations, some of them surprisingly obscure.
Dave walked me to the bus stop and I was utterly useless. I was jumping people to show them the ring, receiving obligatory advice and cliches as a result. I can't stop looking at it. I keep thinking about strange things like bridesmaids and colors and flowers and locations and really girly stuff like that - girly overwhelms me.
Today, the day after engagement, is the three-year anniversary for Dave and I. Three years ago parked in my mother's drive-way, after kissing, we confirmed that we were dating.
"So you ever gonna ask me out?"
"I thought we were going out."
"Just ask me."
"Will you go out with me?"
"Of course!"
Three years. Three whole years of learning. Learning to argue, learning to trust, learning to love, learning to forgive, learning to talk.
I'm not kidding. Walking around work I felt the weight of the ring. I sense the decades and heartaches and troubles and fights and problems all bound up in this white stone, and know very well that I have promised myself to those as well. But it helps to know the days and weekends away and dinners cooked together and nights spent together and increased level of support and intimacy are just as intrinsically guaranteed.
I'm scared to death. But I trust Dave. I trust that our imperfections won't keep this from being good. I trust the love from my friends and family to help us. I know that he and I alone are not enough. But there's a God who promised to continue working with me as I live life, and I know I must trust that.
Wow. I'M ENGAGED.
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