Twenty-nine years ago today, I asked Vicki to marry me.

After an everlasting pause of 20 seconds, she said yes.

Maybe what tipped the scales were the dozen red roses.

Or the box of chocolates.

Or the poem which I read asking her to marry me.

I asked her what took her so long to accept. She said she was shocked by the proposal. Didn’t expect it. We’d dated steadily for two entire weeks, had been going out together for exactly one month. (Our second date — first one didn’t count — was exactly on 14 Jan. 1979.)

So looking at it from that standpoint, 20 seconds flew by.

She took only 20 seconds to ask herself one of the most important questions. “Do I want to spend the rest of my life with this character?”

And came up with, for me, the right answer.

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