A Simple Yes Will Do

October 24 is the anniversary of Chuck's and my engagement. It should have been such a beautiful moment, but somebody kind of dropped the ball. That somebody would be me. 

October 24, 2014

Allow me to set the stage. We were in the Great Smoky Mountains in October 2014. We had only met in person earlier that week, and had only been aware of each other's existence less than a month. You may be shocked to find out we had not only talked of marriage, but had purchased an engagement ring and wedding bands during our first few days together. 

What would people back home think? Were we foolish? Would our kids think we were crazy?

Sometimes you just know, you know? We weren't kids. We'd been married before. We both knew a good thing when we saw it; neither of us wanted to tell the story about the one that got away. And we were not getting any younger. (53 and 54, at the time)

We spent a lovely week driving around the Smoky Mountains, taking pictures at overlooks, hiking up to waterfalls, and driving along the Blue Ridge Parkway. We passed the time in the car getting to know each other better, and coming up with haiku poems about autumn, mountains, and love. 

Chuck chose to propose to me at the end of our first week together after one of our sunrise photo shoots. There are several scenic overlooks along route 441 above Gatlinburg, and we drove to a very popular spot among photographers near Newfound Gap in North Carolina. 

That morning we joined a throng of 20-30 others with tripods and cameras, and we enjoyed capturing images of the sun as it rose over the mountains east of us.

After we had packed up all of our gear, I grabbed my tripod to walk back to the car, but Chuck asked me to wait a moment. I obliged. It gets pretty cold in the Smokies in late October, and I was looking forward to warming up my stiff fingers in the car. We were the only photographers left, except for a man who was walking around in circles near us, searching the grass for his lost lens cap. Chuck rolled his eyes, and seemed a little annoyed, but when the man finally found his cap, and left, Chuck reached into his pocket, and pulled out a ring box. 

And then, do you know what he did? He popped the question in the form of a haiku. Remember those? The old 5-7-5 syllable format?

And then, do you know what I did? I panicked. 

No, not because I wasn't ready to commit, and not because I was having second thoughts. I panicked because I felt like I should try to respond with a haiku of my own. 

I'm not really good at poetry on demand. I tried a variety of five syllable first lines, and then I saw the look of concern on Chuck's face. The moment of a timely acceptance had obviously passed; oh, lordy, I realized I was messing up a very beautiful moment. 

"YES! Oh, yes! Of course, I will marry you," I blurted out, and then he kissed me, and we laughed with relief that an awkward moment had come to an end.

Later he asked me what had taken me so long to say yes. "I was just trying to come up with a good haiku poem in response." (Silly me.)

We have shared our engagement story with others, and one of our friends said, "You should have just said, 

'Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. 

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.'"

Yeah, that would have been clever. I'm not terribly quick under pressure, though.

Much later, I determined to come up with a haiku-styled response to my sweet Chuck's proposal:

The "less is more" lesson has been one that has cropped up time and time again in my life. There are times when one simple word trumps a well-crafted haiku that meets all of the syllabic requirements, and this was definitely one of those times. 

A simple yes would have been perfect. I will try to remember that!