chron·i·cles: Sally Forth!

It's blowing my mind that a year has nearly come and gone since our big move to the Big City. Every day I fall more in love with NYC and with Matt. Is it crazy that I see our little East Village apartment as a major root in our happiness? I know that this year is the sort of year that despite all of our daily struggles, growing pains and stubborn resolves will be looked upon a trillion years from now and have us saying - man, life was good.

We've also just witnessed the end of my second One-Year-Plan, which I'm sorry to say has gone past with far less fan fare than the first. I didn't accomplish nearly as much this past year as I had before. This usually strikes me as seriously discouraging, but why should it?

So, I haven't made all the changes in my life that I had planned to this year. Who cares! The ones that I did make have worked out really well.

I made it to NYC, didn't I?! A city that I have wanted to live in since I was 12 - at least that's how old I was when I wrote my first "Life List." And this version of me that I have become is genuine and awesome.

I am still working the same job, but so what! I wanted a better job, yes. And I intended to find one at the start of this year. But here's the thing - I have a pretty good deal going with my job. I made great money and have a completely flexible schedule. My job keeps me physically fit and I'm respected there and am considered an asset. Not a bad deal.

I haven't finished my book and I get side tracked from this task easily and often - BUT, I have the story line comfortably decided. I just have to give myself permission to sit and write without apology. I know that it's work that takes me away from it most days and I can't really help that at the moment, but there is a light at the end of this girl's tunnel....

I'm engaged! Yup, I'm taking the plunge... again. Does it feel crazy to you? It felt that way to me at first. In fact, my proposal story is ridiculous. Matt had gone down to Florida presumably for a simple weekend visit with his family and came back with an insanely beautiful ring. We had agreed not to bring up the topic of marriage for another year. This conversation came 4 months after he already started saving $$ and 2 months before he flipped that box open on me.

His heart was beating out of his chest that night. We were in our bedroom, just lounging around, his suitcase still on the floor busting forth with all the presents his mother had sent back with him. I can tell you hand-on-heart that even in that moment of realization, when my eyes started crying and my mouth started swearing and my nose started bleeding, that it was not him or the thought of being with him for eternity that shocked and scared me.

Do we need to stop here for a second? Yes, he in all his amazingness popped opened that ring box and with all that adrenaline pumping through his veins remained calm for my sake as he asked me to be his wife and I... FREAKED OUT!

My reaction was instant and involuntary and although I was embarrassed about it at first, I've come to think of it as perfect. First things first, I cried hard wet tears that burned my eyes and ran down my cheeks to completely soak my shirt. Super attractive, I know. Then I started swearing, because well, I was freaking out and I can sound kind of like a sailor when put on the spot. And then my nose bled for a good 20 mins because that is what it does.

Sitting on the floor of that bathroom, with Matt looking at me silently smiling, handing me fresh toilet paper when I needed it, waiting to hear me say anything that didn't rhyme with duck, I tried frantically to figure out why I was reacting like this. I was thrilled at the idea of marrying him. I wanted to be twirling in the moonlight with fairy dust drifting down around me. And then it became clear, I was not scared of marrying him, I was scared of married James again.

James, my former husband, did so much to derail his life and mine. He took advantage of my youth and naivety, while above all using my hopes for a great life against me. He wove epic lies and ultimately made me doubt every thought in my head and every word that rolled around in the mouths of my friends and family. Matt, thankfully, is not James.

But how can I know that this won't break me as the last love had? I can't. But I can trust myself. I can trust that what I feel for him and what I believe he feels for me is pure and good. I can trust that this partnership we have already formed is not a delusion and that he is committed and involved in this life we share just as much as I am.

I trust that if you add how amazing yesterday was with how wonderful today is, then the equation equals out to tomorrow being another day of happiness.

And if that equation some day changes or ends differently, as it does for so many people, well then... we'll deal with it when that day comes.

And to give us the best chance of never ever seeing that day, I will work hard at always being me, the girl he fell in love with. The girl that has inappropriate emotional responses to things (i.e. the bleeding and swearing!) and who never wears pants unless there is company over. My promise to him is that I will always consider him when I made decisions for myself and that I will always include his family in ours. I promise to always be excited when he is and to find a way to put my two cents in in a way that doesn't completely piss him off... at least not for too long anyway. I promise to trust his promises and to help him fulfill them even if they are only to himself.

I love the way his skin is always cool and clean and soft. I love the freckles on his ears. I love that his shoulders square off whenever he gets mad and that he has his whole kitchen thinking he speaks Spanish. I love how comfortable his is around my family and how he always makes sure I get the first of anything we're sharing.

I love how he loves me.

So to make up for completely botching his proposal, I made one of his
favorite rooftop dinners, coupled with champagne and a few dozen candles, gave him the ring back and asked him to try again. This time, he got down on his knee and made promise after promise to me and I smiled and laughed and let him pick me up to twirl me around. There was no moonlight or fairy dust, but there was an incredible sunset and the New York City skyline as a backdrop. My all time favorite photo of him was taken that night.

I had said earlier that I will look back at this year and this apartment and think of it as a golden era. I just can't imagine being happier than I am now. I have a feeling that this statement might possibly be proven wrong. I'm thinking I have even more golden years ahead of me that could possibly take the crown from this one.

But if it doesn't... well then, I will always have E 11 & B. Thank you East Village!