Rings of a Redwood

February 29th, 2012. Leap day. A day I will never forget.

Mother Nature had given us a rainy, cloud-filled sky on the day I asked Kimberly to marry me. We knew before we arrived at the Redwoods that I was going to officially propose while we were there. "I'm giving you the ring back before we get there," she said as we wound our way down the 17. I smiled and squeezed her hand. "I know." As always, we seemed to be sharing the same thought.

We parked at the Visitor's Center and made our way to the main trail entrance to the forest. The day's volunteer, a kind faced man in his fifties with a walking stick, greeted us warmly and showed us two banana slugs that had decided to come out and enjoy the rain. After some idle banter about the forest, he left us with "Feel free to stop in and warm up before you leave today!" We decided to take one of the tourist pamphlets with us to learn more about the points of interest along the trail, and set out into the light drizzle.

We strolled along the trail at a relaxed pace, taking in the majesty of the forest. We both feel a strong connection to nature, and the forest felt particularly alive with the extra nourishment brought on by the rainfall. Everything seemed greener and more vivid, especially the moss that grows on the fallen trees. We stopped at each point of interest and read the entry in the pamphlet about it, sometimes backtracking if we'd missed one.

My heart quickened when the tree I thought I wanted to propose under came into view. Even though I knew the answer I would get, I was still incredibly nervous. As we slowly approached the tree and walked in a circle around it, I realized this wasn't the place. It just...didn't feel right. And although I had my hand around the ring in my jacket pocket, I did not take it out. I didn't know of any other place yet, but I knew we would find it before we left. And, of course, we did.

At one point in the trail, we had the option of deviating from the main tourist path. Naturally, we struck out into less traveled territory. We walked deeper into the forest along a river trail, loving the sound of the flowing water. After another half-hour or so, we came across a scene that looked like it was out of a Robert Frost poem. Trees seemed to frame a spot at the top of a small cliff. Green shrubs grew almost directly under where the trees met above. You could hear the gentle sound of the water flowing in the river below.

I was almost positive this was the spot I wanted to ask Kimber to be my wife. Almost.

We stood under these trees holding each other and enjoying everything about the moment: The feel of the forest, the sound of the river, the smell of the rain.  Each other.  I closed my eyes and pulled her close, breathing her in as I did. In that very moment, for the first time all day, the sun found a break in the clouds above. It bathed us in the full radiance of its warmth, and we both knew. I pulled back and looked into her eyes. "This is it," I whispered. "Yes," she agreed. I took a step back, reached into my pocket, and got down on one knee. "Kimberly, would you do me the honor of being my partner for the rest of this life?"

She smiled. "Yes."

Jordan Suwinski
3/4/2012 - 1:32 AM