A Modest Proposal

She had returned from 20 days overseas.

During that time I went North to ask for the blessing of her folks. I also went South, so that my grandmother's stone could be removed from a necklace, and set in a classy solitaire.

I didn't want jet-lag to factor in. The first night was a celebration, with sushi.

Rest. Unpacking. Inspection sticker. Duck eggs for breakfast. They had been part of my pay from a Farmer's Market gig the week before.

I wanted to go for a ride. That was the plan. But I try to be a gentlemen. I asked, "What would you like to do now?"

"Do you want to go for a ride?" she asked. Yes. The universe, providing.

We generally drive in proximity to our home. Plum Island. Old Georgetown loops and loop extensions. That was not the plan this time. This time I headed South. She did not notice or care to mention noticing if she did notice. And we talked and listened to each other and music and explored roads and things and houses as we do when we drive.

Around Danvers she did not feel well and wished to turn back. I said "We're almost there" but didn't say where. She didn't ask. She just said, "Ok well I'm going to close my eyes for a minute."

Incredible. The universe, providing.

I pulled up to her parent's old house. The Peabody House. We jammed there and smoked there once upon a time, singing old songs as young children on guitars or her family's piano. The car had stopped so She opened her eyes and smiled at the site of the house and then sort of wondered why but I was also holding the ring and she saw it and we talked about being best friends and soul mates and happy together until the apocalypse and beyond.