I Got Engaged On a Thursday
I got engaged to the love of my life on a random Thursday in November.
It was a perfect fall evening in Manhattan, not too hot, not too cold — perfect weather to walk in, and walk, I did. I was rehearsing for a show in midtown, and after we concluded, I headed to meet my beloved at a show at The Beacon Theatre. I think I skipped those forty blocks, for when the weather is just right in New York, it’s as if you could feel the magic in the air. My rehearsal was terrific, too.
At that moment, life felt perfect.
I had no idea that after the show, he was planning on proposing. I had no idea he was cradling a ring deep in the breast pocket of his coat. I had no idea that he had to take it out of his pocket as we went through the theatre’s metal detector security system. I had no idea that he was searching for the perfect time to break that little box out of his pocket as we ate dinner. I had no idea that he had, weeks prior, picket out the most perfect piece of jewelry I would ever own.
I was just happy to be with my love, doing what I love, seeing a show in a city that will always be a part of my soul.
It was a Thursday, but it was a day I’ll never forget.
It was a Thursday and a monumental day in my life.
It was a Thursday, the end of one season and the beginning of the next. A turning point. A chapter flip. A mark of something new and beautiful and exciting all at the same time. And it wasn’t even the weekend — just a Thursday in November in the most fantastic city in the world.
Too often, I fear that we wait for the weekends for something extraordinary to happen. Too often, I fear that we wait for the weekend to celebrate and lean into the sweet moments of life — and, in doing so, we let the rest of life slip away in those days in between.
We schedule time with family and friends for the weekend. The weekend is when we mentally slot time to relax, sit, and enjoy laughter and leisure with those closest to our hearts. The weekend is the time when we go to a show or concert, or how we carve out time for a vacation. We find ourselves waiting for the weekend to take time to invest in the sweet things of life, forgetting that there are plenty of lovely things to be found in the minutes, hours, and days before Friday night.
And when we do that, when we save our excitement for forty-eight hours and the end of our week, we let life slip through our fingers quickly, like the blink of an eye.
I hope you lean into the sweet moments peppered throughout your every day, that joy and celebration aren’t reserved solely for Saturday and Sunday and Friday nights. I hope you treasure the morning silence as you sip your cup of coffee before you begin your day. I hope you pay attention to the world outside your windows so that you may even catch a sunset or two. I hope you see that there is laughter to be found within the hours of the rest of the week; there is work that can flourish, and there are memories to be made, too.
The good things don’t only happen on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
Stay open to the possibility of magic that can happen for the rest of your life; after all, your life might change on a random Thursday in the fall.