A Van Life Engagement

I was wearing sweat pants when it happened. Post-shower, my hair was wild and unbrushed. Makeup? Forget about it. I put it on maybe twice a year. So no, my nails weren’t done either. At least I was wearing a bra. Scratch that, actually, I wasn’t. Moments before, I’d crushed a bag of tortilla chips with salsa. I’m sure my breath reeked of cilantro. I might have even had some wedged in my teeth somewhere. Really and truly…every woman’s ideal engagement scenario. 

Here’s the thing (sarcasm aside): it was perfect. 

We were camped out at Valley of the Gods, one of my favorite places in the whole wide world. Fine, red dust coats your feet, gets in all the cracks, stains your shoes, rises with little poofs every step. Dried shrubs dot the desert landscape. Huge spires, monuments of eroded and windswept sandstone rise against the sapphire sky like guardians. And the sunsets? Orange, gold, pink, lavender and violets that paint the sky. Venus glows, stars make their appearance. Sometimes the silence is so complete, you can hear the buzzing of your own heart creating electricity. It’s a magical place. A sacred place, filled with space and silence and sustenance.

Big things happen here. Our very first visit, in 2020, marked a life changing trip. One that led us to sell everything and make Van Life permanent. The next year, we got word of the premature and tragic death of a young step-sibling. The year after, my best friend had her baby the same night a huge storm rolled through, thunder shaking the van. The next visit, I would get engaged. Death, life, the human in-between. I told A I want my ashes spread here. Pieces of me as a testament to that human in-between. May I be swept away with the breeze, nestle among the Navajo spires, and became the fine, red dust that coats everything. But that day isn’t here yet, this day I am still very much alive.

This day was a typical Van Life day. I journaled with a cup of coffee. Went for a run. Sent out pitches of my book to literary agents. All the while, feasting my eyes on a scene that never gets old, that changes every hour with the light. But…something strange did happen. Earlier in the day, A said, “We should set up the tripod and take a photo at sunset.” First of all, A never wants to take a photo, let alone suggest taking one, especially a selfie. A teeny, tiny thought entered the back of my mind. Was he going to propose? And because I didn’t want to be disappointed if he didn’t, I told myself he wasn’t. Even though we’d talked about it before.

Over a year earlier, we’d gone to a therapist to work through our respective marriage wounds and fears. Mine centered around betrayal and abuse, while A (a child of divorce) witnessed his father wed four separate times. We both had break-throughs, addressed stories we needed to heal. We knew we wanted to spend our lives together, however the commitment looked. So, I pushed the thought of him proposing out of mind and went about my day. Under the baking sun, I heated water for my shower. I hung it from Rudy’s door and washed the red dust from my skin. We ate dinner on our bed. Grape leaves and tzatziki. Chips and salsa. We watched Super Pumped, The Uber Story. And when the sky started to glow orange then gold, the sun stretching her last tendrils, we stepped outside to wish her goodnight. 

A set up the tripod and told me to stand in the perfect spot. He ran over for what I thought was a photo. Spoiler: it turned out to be a video. We posed side by side when he asked, “Guess what?” I didn’t know what. I also didn’t have time to answer before he got down on one knee. Oh. OH. OHHHH. That’s what. 

He said the perfect things. Not memorized or rehearsed, rather the things he knows and feels and believes in his heart. I cried. I cried a lot. And when he asked the question, THE question, instead of saying “YES”, I said “I love you so much”, then I said “YES!”. He picked me up and we held each other tight. We stayed like that for a long time. Me crying. Him holding. 

I could tell you I was so emotional because it was such a sweet, tender moment. I could tell you it was because I felt so much love. I could tell you it was healing for me, to say yes to someone like him. I could tell you that after going through a traumatic first-marriage and divorce and not being sure if I would ever get married again, that this is my chance to try. And trying again in a healthy, whole way means I have a lot to be proud of. Just look how far we’ve come darling. 

So, of course I said yes to A. I said yes because even a lifetime of days together, somehow still doesn’t seem like enough. (I can just see some folks rolling their eyes and thinking: “just wait, marriage is hard work”) Yeah. I know. My first time around was so painful and difficult, I wrote a whole dang book about healing from it. But I think when you’re on a journey with someone committed to their work, to their healing, someone with integrity, I think it’s a hell of a lot easier. I also think that love is a choice. It has to be chosen, over and over again, even when it doesn’t seem as easy as it once did. I think the rewards of choosing through life is really beautiful, that you can create something really special. Hard work doesn’t scare me, being wounded again scares me. And it scares A too. So, we know what scares us and that is valuable. Because when you give someone your heart, it is a lot of responsibility to hold it gently. To hold it as a heart deserves. 

In the afterglow of the sunset and saying YES to the person who holds my heart as it deserves, he told me about asking my parents for their blessing. He told me he’s been planning to ask at Valley of the Gods for months. He told me he wants me to pick out the ring because he can’t be trusted to pick out a tank top, let alone forever jewelry. I sat on his lap and we watched the stars come out. Venus chased the sun. We didn’t tell anyone. We held the moment close and reveled in it. And when it grew cold, we went back into our van and finished watching Super Pumped, The Uber Story. 

Life is so weird like that, isn’t it? Glorious moments that feel so big right there with the mundane. Right there with brushing our teeth and putting on a nasal strip because I snore and then turning out the lights. Right there with whispering in the dark, “I love you” before we drifted off to sleep. Right there with waking up, engaged. Right there with cilantro in the teeth, red dusty feet and a soul deep happiness. Right there. 

P.S. – The following day we began planning what we wanted, a simple elopement that took place two weeks later. It was also perfect.