Friday, June 30, 2000

Sarah and I are packing for a long Fourth-of-July weekend in Ogunquit, Maine. We’ve been talking all month about buying an engagement ring. My stance is that it just wouldn’t be financially responsible to spend that kind of money right now. We seem to spend a lot on travel, and we don’t have a ton of money in the bank. Sarah is glum.

Unbeknownst to her, I have already purchased a beautiful three-diamond engagement ring. It is the single most expensive thing I have ever bought, with my car coming in a close second. It is tucked away in the soap dish in my toiletries kit (which my parents always called a “ditty bag” and her parents called a “Dopp kit,” so go figure).

Saturday morning, as we are loading the car, she gives me a big hug, and grabs my butt as she kisses me. I know she is looking for a ring box in one of my pockets. She does not believe that I would leave the ring in the car. I can feel the disappointment in her kiss when she fails to find anything resembling a ring box in my pants.

When we get to our hotel, I pull some sleight-of-hand and produce a bar of soap, ostensibly from the soap dish, and place it in the shower stall. We lock her camera in the room safe and go to dinner. I leave the ring in my ditty bag.

Sunday morning, we are scheduled to go sea kayaking. We explore the Ogunquit River for a couple of hours, and head back to our room to change into our street clothes. While Sarah is in the bathroom, I put the ring in the pocket of my cargo shorts. A huge surge of adrenaline sets my heart racing. Oh God, this is it.

We wander through town, and buy ice cream cones at the store. We buy a wooden hippo puzzle. We browse the bookstore. We decide to walk the Marginal Way down to Perkins Cove for lunch. I am playing it cool, but my heart is still going a mile a minute.

About halfway along the Marginal Way, I suggest that we stop and sit on the rocks for a while. It’s early for lunch yet and the surf is booming. As we sit down, Sarah is thinking, “This would be the perfect place for him to propose. Too bad the dope doesn’t have a ring.”

We talk about this and that: how beautiful it is here, how much we love it, and how much we love each other. I say, “Speaking of love… will you marry me?”

Sarah laughs. “Of course I will, silly.” She doesn’t yet realize that this is It.

I laugh too. “Well then. I suppose I’d better give you this.” I pull out the ring box and offer it to her with shaking hands. She is speechless; we both start to cry and laugh.

I ask her several times if she was really surprised. She was always difficult to surprise, but just this once, I got her good.

At lunch, she shows it off to the waitress, and anyone else who will hold still. She plays with the sunbeams, breaking them into a constellation of rainbows that shine on the ceiling, on her face, on me.

March 1, 2006

I am with Sarah in the Emergency Department. She refuses to believe that she is dying. As they are getting ready to intubate her, I ask her if there is anything special she would want anyone to have, just in case. “No,” she says. I give her a stern look: just in case. “Give my charm bracelets to the girls, then.” She means her nieces, Catherine and Eliza. And the charm bracelets are her most iconic pieces of jewelry. They are choked with memories. There is one charm for every trip she’s ever taken. I start to cry. She squeezes my hand and says, “Hey. I’m not going anywhere.”

October 7, 2007

Nate and I are at the bagel place with Sarah’s family. Her sister, Sue, brings up Egypt, and Eliza’s face lights up. She says, “I remember when you guys went to Egypt, Sarah had those gold pendants made for us, with our names in hieroglyphics!”

I leave Nate with Sue; I have to run back to the house for something. While I am there, I decide it is time. I go upstairs to get the charm bracelets, and to double-check that I know where Sarah’s hieroglyphics pendant and bracelet are located. When I open the jewelry box, however, I discover that it is basically empty. All of Sarah’s gold jewelry has been stolen.

The engagement ring is gone. Our wedding rings. The Egyptian bracelet and pendant. Her manatee earrings and charm. The opal she bought in Australia. The three-strand braided pearl necklace I gave her the night Nathaniel was born. The list is a long one; she loved pretty things. Bracelets, necklaces, earrings. She had a lot of jewelry.

But they left me the charm bracelets. Silver, you know. Not worth taking.