For Christmas break, my parents took my family to Hawaii.
My mom’s words: “Sarah, I feel bad we can’t take Patrick along. When we booked the trip, we didn’t know you two would be dating.”
If only I knew…
Patrick called me one day and told me he was sick at home, miserable and missing me. Let’s just say, I felt pretty bad as I was enjoying the warm sun and tropical breeze of paradise while Pat was in the wasteland of a frozen Salt Lake City…
The next day I was sitting by the pool with my mom, sister and two brothers. It was the perfect evening. Warm, with a slight breeze. The ocean was glimmering with the reflection of the setting sun.
My dad came over to us.
“Guys, I just found this hobo on the beach. He’s doing magic tricks and it’s incredible. You HAVE to come see!”
“Ya dad, we don’t really care.”
But, he insisted. So, a little annoyed, we all followed him down the beach to a little pier sticking out into the ocean. There was a crowd of people standing around a hobo who was apparently doing magic tricks.
I walked over to the group and the hobo grabbed my arm with his dirty hand and pulled me forward. He had a full beard, long hair, a hat and a long ragged poncho on. I kind of wanted him to NOT touch me.
But he spread a fan of giant playing cards in front of my face and told me to pick a card. I picked one. He told me to turn around and count to ten, then look at the card.
While I was counting, I heard something going on behind me. I was watching Kagnis’ face (my sister) and her jaw just dropped. I got to ten and turned the card around.
There was a single sentence written on the back in black sharpie: Sarah, will you marry me?
Now, I don’t consider myself to be a “dumb blonde.” Heck…I’m more like a “dirty-blonde” anyway. However, I do have my moments. The first thing I thought when I read the card was, “wow this guy is good. How does he know my name??”
Then as I was turning around, things started to click.
The hobo was gone. In his place was a dark-haired, brown-eyed boy in a suit and tie. On one knee. Holding a tiny velvet box out in one hand. There was a pile of wigs and an old poncho laying next to him.
Patrick was in Hawaii.
Now let’s get something straight. I don’t cry. Call me heartless, but I just don’t cry. However, at this moment, I think I would have cried like a baby if I hadn’t been in complete shock. I could barely breathe, let alone talk. Somehow I managed to squeak “yes” and then I was wrapped in Patrick’s arms.
Best. Christmas. Ever.