Saturday, 8 June 2013

The Proposal Story: The Final Chapter

It was meant to be



I reckon everything happens for a reason. You know, even general life guff. Sometimes, there are sure-fire signs which prove that it was meant to be.

For example, when we moved into our flat, I knew that it was definitely The One because there is a picture hook, centred above the hatch in the living room, which is perfectly placed to hold our cardboard trophy deer head. Not only that, but there is a little shelf in the bathroom which is the perfect size for my wicker toiletries basket. To say these are signs that we are in the right flat might sound farfetched, but the picture hook couldn’t have been better placed and the shelf is the exact same size as the basket. Similarly, I knew I’d ended up in the right school because it turned out that I’d got the exact same car (model, colour, registration year and everything) AND the same middle name as the teacher I was paired with. And there have already been wedding related signs too.  Only last weekend, as we were setting off to investigate a couple of reception venues, Radio 2 played Here Comes the Bride. I had been unsure whether it was the right day to do wedding research, but that told me it most definitely was.

Losing the camera on holiday falls into the same category of events. When we first realised it was gone, I was gutted. However, I now know that it was definitely meant to be because it taught me a number of things... 

You know how it is – you go on holiday, get snap happy, return home, sort out the pics (delete any which make you look fat or ugly) and whack the best on Facebook for the viewing pleasure of everybody else. Up the mountain, I thought the photo of us sitting next to each other on the snow just after he’d proposed was destined to be my profile pic, fo sho. However, this obviously wasn't to be. Without a camera, I couldn’t get home and get on the upload. I felt sad about this at first; it really had been perfect and I wanted the world to know how perfect it was dammit! I really do love my camera and my photos are my prized possessions. They’re always in my top three things I’d save from my house if it was on fire (every time just narrowly pipped to the top spot by the cat).

Surprisingly though, after the initial shocker of realising the camera was gone, it wasn’t long before I realised I wasn’t actually that sad about losing it, which was weird. So I thought about why this was and had a moment of revelation when I worked it out. I realised that it didn’t matter that we couldn’t share the photos because the moment itself was what mattered – you know the actual life bit – not the pretty representation on paper.  Nothing could take away from the magic of that moment on the mountain. Photos are lovely but what actually happens is better. It seems obvious now but definitely didn’t before. Important lesson learnt.

Not only that, but we didn’t actually need the photos to share the joy either because we’ve both been blessed with a brain and a mouth so we could talk to people!  Who’d have thunk it? I do like trying to paint a picture with words, which is why I decided to write about it too, as a kind of replacement for the photos. And now that The Proposal Story seems to have morphed into something equivalent in length to a short book, as it turns out, I quite like that we have kept something to ourselves. It feels a bit more like our special moment, which nobody else will see. Bit less in your face innit? Wouldn’t want to be accused of oversharing or anything…

Oh and another lesson I learnt from it: don’t lose the camera on holiday.

The End.

Disclaimer: If we become the subjects of one of those miracle stories where a missing camera turns up a decade after being lost (maybe the snow will melt away to reveal it?), I can't guarantee that you won't see the photos. Of course, if it turns up, it was totally meant to be.