Twenty-three years ago today, at sunrise, we stood on a bluff outside of Bethel, Maine, watching a black balloon wobble as it ascended, disappointment in the air. The wobble meant that there would be no hot air balloon launch that cold Saturday morning: the air was not still enough. It was the day before the beginning of the annual (at the time) balloon festival, and our first visit to the mountains of Maine. Tired (we had driven through a sleet and ice storm 5 hours the night before) and a little crestfallen, we climbed back in the truck, and headed back to the Sunday River Resort. The plan had been to fly, then ski, so we simply reversed the day.
Over the next 4 hours or so, we tried every trail and lift we could, taking in the breathtaking views, shushing down the well-groomed trails. From time to time we raced each other. On the long, wide, easy trail, we talked as we skied side by side, marvelling at the quiet the blanket of fresh snow provided. In talking to another skier--one who clearly had more experience than we did--we found out that the slopes were lightly attended that day, because the powdery new snow was too "Rocky Mountain" for the regulars, who preferred the icier, faster snow that usually fell in these east coast mountains. Truthfully, we were grateful for the relative solitude: this trip was my birthday gift from Guy and a friend of ours--the balloon pilot. He was hoping we would help him at Festivals, and said we should know what a flight feels like first.
Little did I know, everyone had ulterior motives on this trip....
Mid-afternoon found us getting changed and slurping down some soup before loading back up for another attempt at lift-off. The best times for launch are sunrise and sunset, when the air is most still. Sometime I will post about the trip we took that afternoon (it was literally the adventure of a lifetime, not what we expected, nor anything less than movie material!) above the beautiful Bethel area. This post, however, is about the highlight. In the sky above a snowy mountain, with no sound but the occasional whoosh of a burner, the man I have loved through thick and thin, who has grown to be as much a part of my heart as I am myself, produced a heart-shaped diamond ring from nowhere and asked me to be his wife. To this day, I do not know whether I spoke my assent. I was so filled with surprise, wonder and happiness that I only remember feeling even lighter than the lighter-than-air-filled silk that was carrying our wicker basket floor as part of the clouds. I was a bird, a butterfly, an angel on gossamer wings. I know I hugged him, and our pilot (who knew all along), and that I marvelled at how my ungloved hands were not even cold as I admired the most beautiful piece of jewelry I've ever owned glittering on my finger like the snow below us.
Once we landed and got back to civilization, I found out that nearly everyone we had met that day already knew Guy's plans. In fact, the next morning, when we went back to ski for a few hours, we were met in the Lodge by the Activities Director with a post-proposal proposition. She offered to foot the bill for our entire wedding, if we would get married the following weekend as part of the closing of the Festival. She had visions of our ceremony in the sky over the slopes, culminating in fireworks after our landing.
As tempting an offer it was, neither of us could bear the possibility of our families being unable to attend on such short notice. As Guy tried to explain, as tactfully as he could, I kept trying to imagine how on earth a bride could gracefully (or in any way attractively!) enter and exit a gondola in a wedding dress. Though disappointed, she completely understood, but didn't offer the invitation for the following year's festival--we might have taken her up on it, if she had!
I still gaze at that sparkling diamond, amazed that it was chosen especially for me. Although I'm sure others have them, I've never seen another heart-shaped engagement ring, and that has me admiring and appreciating it all the more. This stone has saved me on more than one occasion, and has brought a smile to not only my lips, but my own heart, many, many times. Like a crystal ball, the future and the past are found within, it's facets reflecting emotion, memories, hopes and dreams, along with the beauty that surrounded us--and surrounds us still--on that special, miraculous day.
Truly a blessing of the heart.
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