One moment in Annapolis

I was in Annapolis on Saturday with four of my favorite people. I love Annapolis; like San Diego, it is a waterfront culture complete with restaurants, independent coffee joints, cute shops, and salty afternoon crosswinds. The brick sidewalks are a pretty red, and clean; their slope from the pinnacle at the capitol building beckon visitors to the water. The pretty churches are old, strong. Annapolis also reminds me of fun times with Cassidy when she was studying at the Academy, and of my first summer in the D.C. area, when I accompanied some teen campers there (a welcome break from kitchen duty).
Late in the day, on the cusp between full daylight and dusk, we were circling the capitol building’s verdant grounds, weaving in and out of the magnolias to read plaques from statues. We skirted the north side of the building, and I admired the original glasswork. (I’m told the Maryland capitol is the oldest still-functioning original capitol in the nation, so I figured it was worth admiring.)
At this point, I noticed a couple sitting on the lawn in the shade of the capitol. A distant, if not vacant, smile wandered onto my face. The couple seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their quiet picnic, and it was the sort of thing that would make anyone with a romantic bone in their body sigh.
And then I watched – probably too obviously – is that a little jewelry box? Is he getting down on one – oh dear…
I watched the unsuspecting victim of the proposal cover her mouth with one hand, as she barely kept a grip on the red solo cup in the other. She uttered something between a gasp, a cry, and a high-pitched yelp – and lunged into her lover’s arms. I tried to look away but couldn’t. She was full-on babbling at this point. It was far too amusing to not watch. As she wrapped her arms around her (apparently, because she was clearly thrilled beyond belief) new fiancé, the contents of the solo cup (which, by its color, appeared to be beer) went all over the back of his shirt. Then, they were too busy apologizing to each other and crying and carrying on that no coherence could be deciphered – and my friends told me I had been staring at them long enough, and we moved on.
As we walked away, I realized I had never witnessed a proposal before. The whole affair was entirely a joy to watch – even the drink-spill, which would be considered at best a party foul and at worst uncouth in any other circumstances, had its charm in the context of an engagement. Even not being a part of it, it made me happy to see.
Then I wondered… I had only seen that couple for a moment, but the ninety seconds in which I observed them was probably (hopefully) one of the happiest of their lives. I knew nothing about what had brought them to that point, and I certainly did not know what lay ahead. Had they dated for a year? Five? Ten? Were they high school sweethearts, separated by college, reunited by chance? Had they met online? Was their relationship happy or tumultuous? Did his friends like her? Had he talked to her best friend about what kind of ring she wanted, to get her ring size? Was her best friend happy to provide the information? How many times had they broken up and gotten back together – all to lead up to that point? Who was the first person she would call to tell the good news? How long an engagement would it be?
Regardless of the questions, and their answers, those two – whoever they are, and wherever they are I wish them the best – owned that moment in Annapolis.
I turned the corner, left them to their future, and stepped into mine.