News Flash - Roger and I are engaged!
I’ll be the first to admit, I was never the girl who fantasized about marriage, a wedding, or the picket fenced yard filled with children. Once, my mother caught me kissing a frog. She asked if I was hoping for my Prince Charming. I astoutely responded, “No Mom. I want his horse.”
So, it seems I met my prince nearly two year ago – not by kissing a frog, but by picking up grain at my sponsor’s grain store in Bow, NH. One incredibly honest and candid email later, and I had a date – the first date in nearly three years. It turns out Roger and I had both been single for a while. I was happy training and competing the horses, finding the balance between my work in the office and my passion in the saddle, and building my life around my aspirations. After more then a year of being single, I accepted that I may be single for the rest of my life. Surrounded by wonderful friends, a loving family, and my menagerie of animals, I embraced this fate with contentment.
Roger popped the question just days before we would leave for Southern Pines, North Carolina. I had been wondering if he was going to propose, or if I would return from the land of sunshine and happiness as a single gal. I had just finished my evening Facebook ritual and was about to settle into bed. Then Roger walked in, tossed Frankie on the bed (the usual routine) and sternly uttered the dreadful words that anyone in any relationships loathes: “We need to talk.” I thought, “Oh crap. Here is comes. He’s had enough of the horses. He does not want a yuppy farm. I knew this was all too good to be true – it was just a matter of time.” He came around the bed, and sat down facing me. Before he got down on one knee, there were several “I love yous”, mentions of happiness since we met, and warm sentiments. He lowered to one knee, and asked me to be his wife – to marry him. I said yes. It must have been apparent that I was looking for the ring, and Roger said “Look at Frankie.” Tied around his neck on a piece of braiding yarn (how appropriate) was the ring box. I took it from his neck, gave it to Roger, and he placed it on my finger.
Just when I thought it could not get any better, Roger delivered a home run: “I can’t wait to build out lives together. And, our lives with the horses.” How did I get so lucky?
So the rest is history – or will be history as our life together unfolds.
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