Dateline: Cape Sounion. We traveled up the coastline, creeping along winding roads, avoiding the cyclists who were out in force, to find ourself at the peninsula, and the Temple of Poseidon.
Our tour guide did a wonderful job of giving us the blow-by-blow explanation of how it got here, what it was for, and so on and so forth, but to be honest, I wasn’t listening. I was here for a reason. One very specific purpose.
I was here to propose.
I mean, I wasn’t completely not listening; I caught the bit about Lord Byron carving his initials into one of the pillars. That was interesting, and I made a point of coming back to that later.
I had a rough idea of a plan, but nothing set (forgive me) in stone. I only knew I wanted to do it from a cliffside temple dedicated to the God of the Sea. Thankfully, we were going to one already, so it all worked out.
Someone from our group managed to capture the important part of the proposal, and thoughtfully shared it with me. I will retroactively credit her if she so desires. Here’s how it all went down:
Twelves labors? That’s what I get for speaking off the cuff, but in hindsight, I’m okay with it. I mean, if you’re going to do it, go big or go home, am I right? The good news is that she said yes, and we can get on with the going forward and the planning of new-life-together type stuff. It’s going to be a busy year.
We’re going out for one last dinner, a traditional Greek celebration with breaking plates and dancing and the like. I’ll post more about the trip when we get back to Texas. Thanks for coming along with me. It’s been an illumination, one that I will never forget.
