Seventy-Two

Journal

He proposed at seventy-two — to the woman who'd rejected him at twenty-two.

In 1975, Henry asked Margaret to marry him at the spring dance. She said no. She was twenty-two and wanted to see the world.

She saw the world. He stayed. Fifty years passed. Both married other people, both lost them, both came back to the same dance.

Last Saturday, Henry stood up, walked across the floor, and the whole room went quiet. 'Margaret,' he said, 'I've been practicing this for fifty years.'

He knelt down — slowly, knees aren't what they were — and opened the box. 'Will you marry me?'

She laughed. She cried. She said, 'I waited fifty years for you to ask again.'

They danced until the band packed up. Henry said, 'I was never late. I was just early for the right time.'

Fifty years. Some yeses just take a while.