I woke up in the morning to the smell of fresh scones and coffee.
\nRhea was still asleep.
\nI snuck out. <\/p>\n
Today was a big day, and I needed some fuel. <\/p>\n
My aunt was in the kitchen with my mom.
\n\u201cAre you ready?\u201d they said,
\nsmiling sneakily from ear to ear.
\nBut before I could respond their expressions changed drastically.
\nFlutters of nervousness, slowly settling into a poker face.
\n\u201cMorning, Rhea\u201d they said.
\nI turned around, warned. <\/p>\n
Rhea was sleepy, still in her PJs,
\nand desperately in need of a cup of coffee.
\nBut I noticed none of that today. <\/p>\n
Today was about bigger things. <\/p>\n
Later, as Rhea got ready, my family gathered around her, underplaying things.
\n\u201cOh don\u2019t wear that dress, it\u2019s a really casual lunch, and we\u2019re going to the beach after.\u201d
\n\u201cHmm,\u201d Rhea said, her face wrinkling up as she thought.
\n\u201cBut we\u2019re still going to a winery right? I think it\u2019ll be nice to dress up a bit.\u201d
\n\u201cAs you wish,\u201d I said, with the calmest, truest smile I could muster.
\nBut inside, my heart was thudding.
\nDid she know? Was she in on my secret plan? <\/p>\n
A sharp cry interrupted my inner monologue.
\nI rushed out, and my grandmother\u2019s hand was stuck in the car door.
\nAs we got it out, she wailed in pain, tears streaming down her face.
\nI had never seen her so frazzled before.
\nAs all of us gathered around her with a mix of ice and ointments and the like,
\nsomeone suggested taking her to the hospital.
\nMy heart, which at this point was ready to burst out of my ribcage,
\nSank down low. <\/p>\n
Today was not going as planned. <\/p>\n
Then magically, in the matter of a few minutes, my grandmother\u2019s pain subsided.
\n\u201cNo let\u2019s go to the winery,\u201d my mom said. My grandmother nodded, so did my aunt,
\nso did the rest of my family.
\nThey were ready, and now I had to be. <\/p>\n
In the car ride to the winery, I tried my best to calm down.
\nMy mom had the bags of stuff, Rhea\u2019s family had been informed,
\nand my grandmother was feeling back to normal.
\nEverything was under control.
\nYet I felt slightly unsettled.
\nWould things be ok?
\nWas my grandma really ok, or was she just saying so for my happiness?
\nWhat else could go wrong? <\/p>\n
Would today really be the day?<\/p>\n
Then I looked at Rhea, sitting to my side, and I instantly felt relief.
\nIt was just her, and it was just me.
\nWe would figure this out.
\nI gripped her hand, rubbed it a few times, and smiled at her.
\nShe smiled back, the slightest flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
\nI once again got the sense that she knew.
\nBut before I could think any more, we were at the winery. <\/p>\n
We did one photo under the trellis, with the vines in the backyard.
\nAnd then it was time. <\/p>\n
It was time for today. <\/p>\n
As I went down on my knee, I saw Rhea\u2019s eyes shine with surprise and delight.
\nIn her happiness was mine.
\nAs I said the words I had rehearsed so meticulously,
\nasking her to be one with me,
\nall anxiety and hesitation vanished,
\nand everything flowed naturally,
\nas it should. <\/p>\n
Today felt right.
\nMe had become we.
\nAnd with her and me together, I knew we could handle anything.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I woke up in the morning to the smell of fresh scones and coffee. Rhea was still asleep. I snuck out. Today was a big day, and I needed some fuel. My aunt was in the kitchen with my mom. \u201cAre you ready?\u201d they said,…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":830,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-138983","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138983","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/830"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=138983"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138983\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":139000,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138983\/revisions\/139000"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=138983"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=138983"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=138983"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}