“ Surely you know what a kiss is?” she asked, aghast.
“I shall know when you give it to me,” he replied stiffly, and not to hurt his feelings she gave him a
thimble.
-J.M. Barrie
When I was little I was in love with the character of Peter Pan. I dreamed of having grand
adventures with the exciting, charming boy in Neverland. I even wrote him a letter or two, the way many children write letters to Santa Claus.
As I grew older (but never up), my determination to go to Neverland subsided, but J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan remained one of my favorite stories. A love of this story was one of the many things that I found Dane Gustafson and I had in common after we started dating in December of 2009. In fact, he at one point told me how he had conducted “Panning classes” with his sisters when he
was little (this involved things like sword fighting, tree climbing, ect.).
It was with this in mind that I purchased a thimble during the semester I spent in Oxford during
spring, 2009. It was a wonderful semester in so many ways, but also difficult for me and for Dane: we had only been on two dates before I left the country for sixth months. We hadn’t said the words, “I love you” yet, but as my house-mates might be able to attest, it was already painfully obvious by the way I couldn’t stop talking about him, many letters we wrote and mailed to each other, and the endless hours we spent video-chatting on Skype in the middle of the night. Nor had we experienced our first kiss yet. I would see Dane during his birthday week shortly after my return to the States and I thought, just maybe, I would give him the thimble I had bought-and the kiss that went with it(hoping that he would get the reference to one of our favorite stories).
What actually ended up happening on that birthday week in May blew us away.
Dane and I had been having such an incredible week. We stayed up late and woke up early: soaking each other in after the long months apart.
It was about 2 a.m., the early morning after Dane’s birthday. For his gift, I had written and bound a short story for him. We were in the living room, talking and listening to old 40s romance songs (we share a love for that era) when I realized that I hadn’t even given him his present yet.
I went to the guest room to get it, and saw the bag that held the thimble I’d bought in Wales a few months ago. I took a deep breath and grabbed both, not yet sure if I’d have the guts to give him the thimble’s companion gift: I had never kissed anyone before and didn’t really know what I was doing. Instead of presenting him with the story right away, I gave him the thimble first, nervously. I tried to play it off like a souvenir from England. However, when he poured what was in the bag out into his palm, his eyes got wide and the electricity in the room seemed to surge. In that moment I knew there was no going back. He knew that I knew that he knew for what that tiny object stood. So very slowly, we leaned towards each other. Old Big Band tunes played in the background as we pressed our lips together for the first time: a shy, sweet kiss (it was his first, too).
“I can’t believe you just did that,” Dane said just a few minutes later, his tone painted with astonishment. Slowly, he pulled out his wallet, opened it, and drew out a tiny thimble that was in one of the compartments and showed it to me. “I was planning to do the same thing….I can’t believe you just did that,” he repeated, shaking his head.
Later that week, he would give me his thimble and tell me that he loved me
(with words, for the first time).
I couldn’t believe the odds: how is it that two people would plan something like that, the same way and time? He later told me he had always thought it would be romantic to do, but had never thought he would find a girl who would even understand the gesture. He assumed I might appreciate it, being a J.M. Barrie fan. But even so, he never could have foreseen what had happened, either.
This is only one incident, out of countless others before and since, that have made it so clear to me that Dane is my person in this world. However, this is the one that you need to know about in order to understand how Dane asked me to marry him.
The Proposal
Friday night Dane told me that he was planning to come over on Saturday morning and that he would let himself in and see me in the morning. Saturday was our two year dating anniversary, and I went to bed excited about seeing him first thing in the morning and celebrating the next day.
Sleepy-headed with eyes tightly shut, I heard footsteps creaking down the hallway around 7:30 on Saturday morning. My door opened and my mattress sank down. I rolled over groggily and saw Dane sitting on the edge of my bed. He smiled at me, looking wide-awake and handsome and holding a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He rubbed my back softly and told me I was “so pretty” (even though I wasn’t really feeling that way first thing in the morning).
He leaned down and whispered: “I’m going to go make us some tea. You go ahead and get ready and then we can go.”
“Go?” I asked, confused. “We’re going somewhere?”
He just nodded mischievously and kissed me on the forehead before heading to the kitchen. We ended up driving to Dahlonega, GA, a lovely mountain town about 35 minutes from my house. Dahlonega has a great square and is a big part of my childhood, being really close to one of my family’s favorite camping destinations. We had breakfast at a terrific café that we’ve been to before (Picnic Café & Dessertery), and had such a sweet time chatting, walking around, and holding hands.We also had something really funny happen when we went into an Antique store and didn’t realize (aside from a weird smell) that there was any kind of emergency until a fireman saw us walking down one of the aisles and said: “Maybe yall should leave.” (in a typical Southern, casual manner).
We talked a lot that morning about all kinds of things, some of which concerned love, life, where we’d been and things we wanted to do: we were both very warm and smiley when we got back to the house.
In the middle of our anniversary date, we had planned kind of a family date on Saturday as well: my mom, dad, Dane and I were all completely excited about the new Sherlock Holmes movie, and went to see it together in the early afternoon. (It was very, very good by the way. Go see it
if you haven’t).
After the movie was over, Dane brought me back to the house and told me that he would give me a call when it was “safe to come over.” For some background, something that he and I sometimes
do on special date nights is cook a nice meal together, light some candles, and clear out some space for a dance floor to dance together. We especially do this on “17th” dates. Last month on the 17th, I cooked a dinner for us because Dane had just started his new job and was really tired, and this month he was planning on doing the cooking. However, all week he had been very mysterious about what he planned to make and kept threatening Chick-fil-a.
I got dolled up and waited for the phone to ring. Finally, I was notified that I could come. When I opened the door I felt a little breathless. The lights were dim and there were candles everywhere. One of our favorite songs was playing. He took my hand and led me into the dining room where the table was decorated with vines and leaves and twinkly-lights. For dinner he had made asparagus, corn on the cob, and lobster, something I’ve never really had on its own, but had been wanting to try. I was blown away by the efforts he had taken to make everything so beautiful and magical. Dinner was delicious and wonderful (aside from when I shot lobster-juice
on myself).
Afterwards, we danced and talked quietly for a long time to candlelight and a playlist of romantic 40s’ songs. The feeling in the room was pretty heavy with emotion. I was replaying the whole day in my head. Not only that, I was also replaying our whole relationship in my head.
I was thinking how amazing God is and how amazing it is that he brought two people together in
such an unexpected way (another story for another time). I was thinking about
how much I would love this kind, funny, wise, Godly, handsome man even if he
didn’t even know I existed. But the fact that he loves me too simply blows me
away. I thought about the songs he would sing, record, and send to me when I
was in England so that I could listen to them on my MP3 player on the walk into
town. I thought about how he helped me stay on track the craziness of senior
year by providing me with deadlines and listening to me vent. I thought about the horrible empty feeling of missing him during those long weeks or months when we were apart and the
wonderful miracle it was to see him again when those times were at a temporary
end. I thought of how he gives the best hugs known to mankind, and can always make me laugh. I thought of the last few months together, finally in the same place-how he moved up here to be with me, and how he’s become a very real part of our family.
I thought all the new memories made since then: hanging out and cooking, laughing with my parents, reading books together, staying up late talking or watching a movie, singing silly songs in the car, kissing while we stand outside and look at the moon. We don’t take one another for granted, a gift in exchange for the pain of being apart for so long.
I may not have said these, or so many of the other things that I was thinking or feeling aloud, but my eyes welled up a couple of times. His, too, were a little more moist than usual while we danced. After a while, he took me back into the dining room and we ate dessert (pumpkin and pecan pie). He took my hand and rubbed it softly, reminding me of his birthday two years ago and how amazing that experience was when he told me, “You’re my Wendy.”
I smiled and then remembered, of course, what happens to Wendy at the end of the book.
“Just don’t forget about me.” I teased.
“Never,” he said, “I want to always have adventures with you.”
He excused himself for a moment, leaving me to my warm feelings.
I expected him to go straight down the hallway, but he turned left instead, into the office. When he came out he was holding a box. My heart stammered a little bit. But it was too big to be a ring box, I told myself. He came back to the table and set it down amidst the vines and lights. It was about the size of most functional jewelry boxes but looked a bit like a small treasure chest. He flipped it open. Inside, there were several thimbles, some of which looked quite old and unique. There were also acorns and little tiny balls of light that slowly turned themselves on and off.
In the middle of all this, there was a very large thimble. Too large, I thought, to ever actually
be used for sewing. Something had to be under that thimble. But I didn’t lift it up.
“Wow,” I breathed. It was beautiful. I looked at him and looked at the box . Then I looked at him again, having no idea what to do. “Pick it up,” he said, smiling and looking at the oversized thimble. I did so. Under the thimble was a ring. The center stone was blue and the filigree and two small diamonds on either side of it glimmered by the fairy lights inside the box. It was perfect for me.
At this moment I had two thoughts:
1. What a lovely ring.
2. I can’t breathe.
Exactly what he said afterwards is now a little fuzzy in both of our minds, but it went something like this:
“The first time you gave me a thimble, it stood for an action. Later, when I gave you one, it stood for words (“I love you”). But this time, all I want to do is ask you a very important question.”
He got down on one knee.
“Kathryn Elizabeth Powell, I love you and want to spend the
rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
And of course, I exclaimed, “Yes!” and threw my arms around
his neck.
At the beginning of our relationship I prayed about whether or not Dane and I were supposed to be together and received what I felt was a very huge “duh”from God ( if God says “duh”.) The fact that we just belong together hasn’t been something that I’ve ever had to ponder much, or question, or worry about. It’s just the way it is. I don’t worry about him being interested in other girls, and though all couples argue sometimes, I don’t worry that any fight would be big enough to tear us apart. We’ve been through two years of being in a long distance relationship,
experiencing heart-wrenching goodbyes and sadness alongside the happiness and
romance. It’s made us stronger, and now that we’re finally in the same place it would be hard to take one another’s company for granted. Every moment with him has just felt right and complete. I’m definitely not perfect, and neither is he. But he’s my perfect match in every way. I’m so excited that we belong to each other, officially, and that we are in store for a lifetime of adventures together.
