The temple is my idea (or so I think).
On the plane ride up from Yangon he hands me the Myanmar guide book, opens to Mandalay, and asks me to find something for us to do that evening.
I read about the sunrise views from the top of Mandalay Hill, how the young monks like to go there each evening to practice their languages. Yes, it is to be reliably tourist trappy, but this is the middle of summer: the off, rainy season in Myanmar. We end up feeling practically alone.
We pass a hundred little homes improvised into the hillside on the way up, all with children and/or animals moving freely in and out-of-doors.
There are various pagodas at landings, hundreds of steps separating them. We stop at some for a rest. Past others, we continue without pause.
Kevin is quiet much of the way. So am I. It is hot and we are sweating. But the climb is not unpleasant. The space feels somewhat sacred, despite the loud and ordinary activities swirling around the families we pass. We are taking in the sights. We are taking in the atmosphere.
When we finally reach the summit, Kevin and I part ways for a moment. He heads down a walkway that juts out from the summit landing. I stand near the railing and gaze at a group of young monks who are looking out at the beautiful valley below.
When Kevin rejoins me he looks more serious than I've ever seen him. He opens his mouth to talk, and his voice is shaky; his eyes are watering. "I have to tell you a story," he says. "When I was here in 1998..." he starts.
My mind goes to these three places in 2.5 seconds:
1) Kevin impregnated a woman when he was here in 1998
2) The reason he brought me here was to meet his (other) son
3) His son is coming with us back to the United States
I brace myself, waiting to hear the details of this imagined story come from his mouth.
"When I was here in 1998, we came up here to Mandalay Hill..."
WHAT?! I'm thinking. During this entire 2-hour climb he never once mentioned having been here before.
"When I saw the view from up here, I told myself that if I ever proposed to a woman, I would want it to be right here."
He gets down on one knee, pulls a ring box out of his pocket (WHAT?!) and asks me to marry him.
I say yes.
 |
| Kevin and the young monks, moments before his proposal. |
***
I think this is one of the most romantic stories I've ever heard. I can't believe it actually involves me.
Kevin had planned the trip and had told me (up until the moment we arrived at the airport) that we were going to Vancouver. The destination itself was such a surprise I never once imagined there was more in the plans.
What was he gonna do if I hadn't chosen sunset at the top of Mandalay Hill as the thing to do that night? How did he hide the ring when his bag got an extra dose of security search at the airport in Beijing?
***
Later Kevin tells me he always wondered if that proposal was ever going to actually happen. I learn details of his having contracted malaria on that previous trip (his second to the country. He was collecting snake specimens with mentors and colleagues from the Cal Academy of Sciences). I learn how they weren't sure he would survive, how his recovery took months, many of which he was bedridden.
I learn he'd snuck off to my parent's house the night before we left, told them of his plan, asked for their blessing. I learn that the ring he's given me was made by a local jeweler using diamonds from his grandmother's wedding ring. His mom had given it to him about a year previous, suspecting he'd be proposing at some point and encouraging him to use it any way he liked.
And I learned something that day about the type of man my husband is. I'd known from watching him work on monster projects--both professionally and creatively--that he was a fan of the long view. He didn't like just to do things. He liked to do them in the way he envisioned. Carefully. With planning. He liked to do things well.
This proposal was 18 years of vision in the making. I would say that, as proposals go, this one was done really. fucking. well.
#inktober
