“Marry me” he whispered in my ear, holding me close, protecting me from the chill Autumn air.
One year earlier, my boyfriend Jeff and I wrote down our 10 top travel destinations, threw them in a hat and picked out one: France.
We saved our airline miles, booked a ticket, and set off for the adventure of our lives, one I’d later term our “Engagementmoon.”
We arrived that morning at Charles de Gaulle, navigated the Parisienne train system and walked around in the rain, lost and confused, trying to find a bistro where our Airbnb host has left our key with the barista.
We found the place, I rustled off the scripted phrase in very rusty French, and we were given our key in a small blue envelope. We found the apartment where we’d spend the next two nights, guests in a Parisienne’s home in the neighborhood of Montmartre.
We changed into dry clothes and hit the streets running.
First stop: Sacre Coure. We entered the grand cathedral and lit candles for my dad and Jeff’s grandpa (a standing tradition when we travel). We marvelled at the stained glass and the tall ceilings.
And we climbed the steps to the dome overhead, overlooking all of Paris.
Notre Dame’s glint can be seen from this highest point in Paris. I spot the Eiffle Tower for the first time.
I am in love. In love with Paris. In love with life. In love with Jeff. And he knows it.
He leans in close, he holds me in his arms. “Marry me” is all he says….
Find out what happens in Munich….