And we both know, that our love will grow
And forever it will be you and me
Ooh you’re like the sun
Chasing all of the rain away
When you come around you bring brighter days
You’re the perfect one
For me and you forever will be
And I will love you so for always
Come with me my sweet
Let’s go make a family
And they will bring us joy for always
- Lyrics from Always by Atlantic Starr
Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart!
Today, Terry and I are celebrating our 19th wedding anniversary! (The above lyrics were from our “first dance” at our reception.) Our love today is much stronger than it was even then. We grew well together!
In celebration of our love I am including a short essay that I wrote about my proposal.
In joy!
Tortellini En Broto
by Stephanie Griffin
I wanted to make a special meal for him, something to show him my love for him and my comfort in being with him. It came to me, then, the memory of the tortellini.
My best friend Beth and I spent a special afternoon with her mother that day. The three of us had never had such a comfortable time together. Her mother had made Tortellini En Broto. I had never experienced it before and I fell in love with it that day. Tender tortellini pasta in a warm, garlic seasoned chicken broth, with a loaf of French bread on the table that we could tear big hunks from. We would dip the bread in the broth, in between bites of the tender tortellini. Our conversation flowed, and we seemed to be surrounded by sunlight and friendship. All of the tensions that normally seemed to surround Beth and her mother like walls melted away with that meal.
That comfort and connection was something that I wanted to share with Terry. The tortellini would be the right meal for me to make. I had only had it that one time, years before. I had no recipe, but I remembered the scents: warm bread, garlic. I knew I could do it.
There in my funny little apartment kitchen I prepared our meal. The steam from the pot rose up and fogged up the window that looked from the sink into the bedroom hallway. The old metal table was not beautiful, the floor was some hideous old vinyl, and the seats were falling apart, but this was the setting for our romantic dinner.
We didn’t have much time to spend together that evening. He still had an astronomy lab to attend later that night, but my heart was filled with joy just to have our small amount of time alone to share. I felt such pride that the meal turned out to be as wonderful as what I remembered. Terry enjoyed the dinner at least as much as I did. After only a couple of bites he said, “I wish I would have known this would be such a perfect dinner; I would have proposed to you.”
Time stopped at that moment. Garlic and warm bread filled me up as I took deep breaths.
“What? You WOULD HAVE proposed, but you aren’t going to?” I hadn’t expected a proposal at that time, even though we already knew we would marry. As soon as he said it, though, I wanted it. I wanted a proposal over our perfect meal in my ugly apartment. I wanted that memory, that beginning, and I couldn’t have him put it off.
That began the negotiating. He didn’t want to propose without a ring. Who cared about a ring? Not me. I didn’t need a ring. We had no money, we were poor college students. I didn’t need a ring, but I did need him and I felt like I couldn’t let that moment pass without my proposal.
I won out and I got my proposal that evening, just in time to drive him to his astronomy lab. The actual proposal may have occurred with him pinned beneath me on a grotesque blanket-covered vinyl couch, as I threatened to make him fail astronomy if I didn’t get my proposal - but the memory is more unique than a proposal on one knee in an idyllic setting. It was a perfect beginning point for us, and tortellini was the key.
