When I think back to the day when my husband first proposed to me, there was not much waiting at all. None would be the accurate word. We had been together for four months before he asked the question. To some, four months may not seem like enough time to get to know one another, but to us, it was long enough. We both knew that we were meant to be with each other and that it was only a matter of time. It was on a weekend in early February 2010, a Saturday morning. My husband, or boyfriend as he was at the time, would make the three hour trip from Wilson, New York, to Sarnia, Ontario, Canada, every Friday night to visit me, since I lived in Canada at the time.
My husband-to-be and I were seated on the couch in the tiny room of a rooming house that I was renting. The room used to be a back porch until the landlord converted it. We had just finished a breakfast of homemade hash browns with eggs and cheese when we started discussing about what to do that day. Somehow the topic changed to the day when we first met, which was on his birthday in 2009. We had chatted online for about five months as members of an online community but had never actually met in person until his birthday in 2009, which is a day that will never be forgotten. We both knew that we were meant to be together.
After about an hour’s worth of chatting, my husband-to-be, with his hands folded together, said, and I quote, “so do you want to get married or what?” There was no getting on knees, or any of that stuff. No fancy engagement party or anything of the like. He didn’t even look at me when he said it. I had to ask him to turn and look at me and repeat what he said, which he did, except this time the words he used were a bit different. His words were, and I quote, “how about we get married”. I thought about it for maybe a few seconds, then came my reply. “Okay.”
That was it. There was no big to-do about any of it. Not even me squealing happily while saying yes and jumping into his arms. That part came later, the following weekend to be precise, when the whole marriage thing finally sunk in. It was nearly two weeks after the marriage proposal that he finally gave me an engagement ring.
Once I had received the ring, questions arose from both of us as to how I could legally move to the U.S. My husband-to-be thought about it for a moment and informed me that he would contact an attorney when he got back across the border. A couple days later, via skype, my husband-to-be told me what the attorney had said. File for a K1 visa. We did just that. My husband-to-be filed for the K1 visa and then came a year and half of me filling out forms, as well as dealing with governments on both sides of the border. Then on March 1st of 2011, both my husband-to-be and I were greatly relieved and extremely thrilled when the woman we saw at the U.S. consulate in Montreal, Canada told us that I had been approved for the visa but we had 90 days to get married, once I entered the U.S. On the 16th of March in 2011, in the afternoon, I finally received my K1 visa, which was on a Wednesday. It was early Saturday morning, on the 19th of March, 2011, when I left Canada to move to the U.S. It was in May of that same year that we got married. It took a bit longer that we both had initially hoped for, as well as being quite costly, but he was all worth it.
He is still worth it to this very day, and always will be, to me at least. I give fate the credit of bringing us together. Fate knew I was ready and picked the right one for me, and she does the same for everyone else. The way I see it, us humans like to think we get to choose the who we fall in love with, as well as the where, when, why and how but the choice is not ours. It is fate’s choosing and we are just along for the ride. So if she chooses the right one for you, waiting for an engagement should not matter, for what will be, will be, and what is not, will not. You will know it in your heart and soul if you are with the one meant for you.