August 9th, 2017 - Debordieu Colony, Georgetown, SC

5:00 a.m.

The dull sounding of my alarm woke me up at 5'o'clock in the morning. I made sure to take every precaution not to make too much noise while I slipped the ring on a bandana and put it in the pocket of my shorts.

5:15 a.m.

The door brushed the carpet as I slowly opened it into Maggie's room to find her in a dream-like, open-mouth-breathing slumber. I wanted to wake her up as gently as possible, so I kissed her on the forehead. Her eyes sprung open and widened as if she had just seen goat. Seeing the alarmed look on her tired (yet still beautiful) face, I asked if she wanted to go watch the sunrise on the beach. Didn't really have a plan B at this point, but... thankfully, she said yes.

5:20 a.m.

Maggie met me downstairs (we later discovered her shirt was inside out, but who can blame her because she was abruptly awakened at 5:15) excited to see the sunrise, which we had done on our first visit to Debordieu. We grabbed a sand blanket and by the light of our phones trekked down to the beach.

5:45 a.m.

We walked down a little ways to a spot on the beach which was situated in front of an undeveloped piece of land (sans beach houses). It was tad bit windy so it took us a good 5 minutes to get the blanket laid down on the damp sand.

At this point I was beginning to realize that this Eagle Scout had prepared a little too well, leaving us with an hour under the dark and stormy sky before the sun would eventually grace us with its presence. After all, the sun is never late. Everyone else is simply early.

6:15 a.m.

Things were starting to look down when I had to chase Maggie around as she frantically ran from what I thought was a friendly gang of gnats who just wanted to witness the big moment, but what she thought was a menacing gang of gnats with a blatant disregard for personal space. Eventually they got the message that we needed some alone time, and we found a place to continue waiting for the sunrise.

6:40 a.m.

Things continued to look down as Maggie was ready to call it quits due to the thick gray clouds boxing out the glorious sun. Luckily a much more welcomed gang (pod?) of dolphins stopped by to talk her into staying ( I gave them a gracious review on Yelp! to thank them for their service – 5 out of 5 would recommend).

6:48 a.m.

Much to my excitement the sun began to peek over the clouds. I tried to suppress the urge to throw a "told ya so" in her face as I pulled the ring off of the bandana in my pocket. I could feel my heart begin to flutter (like the gang of gnats trying to keep up with Maggie) as I tried to think of what I was gonna say. The words started to flow, and apparently they were frickin' awesome because Maggie gave me a hug and squeezed super hard (as she has been known to do).

A note from Maggie:

As I hugged him I could feel his heart pounding and became seriously concerned that he was developing a heart condition. I made a mental note to check his heartbeat later to make sure everything was OK.

6:50 a.m.

My heart hit full stride as I touched one knee to the sand, pulled the ring out of my pocket and dribbled the words out of my mouth, "will you marry me?" We were both so excited that neither of us remember whether she said yes or not. We do remember, however, her saying, "wrong hand" as I tried to place the ring on what I thought was her left hand (which is ironic because direction is usually something she struggles with, not me).

...

I didn't even have the ring with me at the beach when I decided I was going to propose to Maggie. I had tried to draw up intricate plans that would reflect who we were as a couple. It was at the beach that I realized that spontaneity would reflect us better than anything I could plan far in advance. What says spontaneity more than having your dad retrieve the ring from the drawer of your bedside table on his way from work to the beach.

I took Maggie to the undeveloped spot (sans beach houses) because I want our marriage to be wild(ish) and full of spontaneity and adventure - clouds, gnats, dolphins, and all.