Going To The Chapel

Today, I spent ten hours in the car. Ten lovely hours driving from my soon-to-be new home in Las Vegas to my current hometown of Sacramento. While cruising down the road I did what every typical traveler does when stuck in one small space for an extended period of time…I scanned the radio for any sign of intelligible static and sang at the top of my lungs when I finally landed on a tune I could understand and something I actually recognized. Around hour five, I prayed for any sign of life, or rather I prayed for anything but the desert view that was lulling me into a deep hypnotic state as I passed through mile after mile of hills and dry land. Actually, I was praying for a Starbucks if you want to know the real truth. Why? Because I’m a Chai Tea addict, thanks to the quaint little chain that was located directly across the street from the job I had worked for the past five years until my recent departure.

Once I reached civilization, took a quick restroom break and was back in the car accompanied by my ice-cold Venti sized beverage, I popped in an upbeat CD and switched the AC to freezing cold in an effort to keep myself awake. I got back on the 99 Freeway that was laden with construction and once again headed north. That’s when it happened…my cell rang and my heart skipped a beat as I read the screen and recognized the identity of the caller…

Philip. My man. My boo baby. The love of my life. The man I will confidently walk towards in ten days and declare in front of 250 of our closest family and friends that I will choose to honor and cherish him for the rest of my days. The man who compliments me in a way I never thought possible. The man who knows the REAL me and loves me just the same. The man who in just seven months has shown me the true meaning of companionship, protection and pure love. The man who calls when he says he will, the man who keeps me laughing at myself so I don’t take me too seriously but holds himself to an extremely high level of integrity. The man who looked at my physical and emotional scars and through his actions demonstrated his willingness and ability to not only accept them but he found them to be part of what he says makes me beautiful.

The man who when faced with the possibility that my cancer had returned, called my parents after only two months of us dating and asked if he could propose to me sooner than originally planned so that I would not doubt his promise to be in this for the long haul…no matter what. The man who when we learned the biopsy was clear of cancer went ahead with his plan and got down on his knee, ring in hand in front of a packed church congregation on Easter Sunday, pledged his love and commitment to me and asked me to be his wife. The man who tells me the ravioli wasn’t “that bad” even when it was a pile of mush and something even I could barely stomach. The man who listens quietly while I cry and the man who jumps to my rescue when someone has done something to make his “boo” upset. The man who grabs for my hand no matter where we are or who we’re with, the man who shows my picture to the random clerk at the check out counter because he is so proud to claim me. The man who puts on a brave face for me even when I know he’s had a tough day too. The Man…My Man…He is the Lord’s greatest gift to me and the man to whom I cannot wait to say I DO and I WILL and I PROMISE…At the age of 33, after waiting for “my steak” I am finally going to the chapel, and at the end of that chapel aisle will be the most handsome man of my dreams!

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