How I Proposed To Your Mother

A Barn in Flatbush Brooklyn, a Chef, and a Video to Cherish Forever

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I write letters to my infant son, Myles, sharing my journey as a first-time dad and spreading the love I didn't experience myself. If you’ve been here before — thank you for coming back. If you’re new here, below are some good places to start before you read this letter to Myles.

• How I Met Your Mother

• Three Months after I Met Your Mother

February 14, 2016

36 Weeks Old

Dear Myles,

I’m not a planner, but love will turn you into an architect. The ring was purchased months before, given to a good friend at work for safekeeping in his closet because there were no hiding spots in our 450-square-foot apartment in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. The Airbnb was booked. I'm reluctant to even use the word 'booked' because I didn't pay. A friend described that her good friends had a small cottage, a freestanding house in the heart of Flatbush, Brooklyn, that they were planning to rent out for Airbnb. But when I told them I was interested in proposing there, they said they'd be honored to have us there as their first guest at no cost. I hope you find the kind of love that, when you tell people about it, they conspire and enroll themselves to make sure that love stays alive and happens.

I’m not a planner, but as much as I wanted to put a string around the moon just to pull it a little closer for a moonlight dinner, this Airbnb would have to do. And because I am not a cook, I hire a chef who said, for a heaven of a price, he will make a meal for us both—6 courses, 3 for me and 3 for your mother. The chef says he has a friend who will capture the whole moment, videos and pictures, at no cost because he’s covered the cost already—he needed pictures of the dishes himself. When you’re in love, people will conspire and enroll themselves to make sure that love is captured and framed—your money will do no good to them.

Meals Prepared by Chef Ty

The day was set for Valentine’s Day, and I gave your mother a week's notice so she could prepare. She could ask no questions—all I told her was to be ready for 6 PM and look "nice." She ignored me and incessantly asked questions all week anyway, from what she should wear to what shoes. I dodged questions, lied, and told fibs that whole week.

The night before, I told her I was working late, but I was actually decorating the Airbnb with a friend—red heart balloons and pink letter 'Ms' for our names. We positioned the table, moved furniture around. The place was already perfect, but I know your mother appreciates the small things – this was the closest I could bring the moon.

The Day 

When I got home from work, your mother was getting ready, in a panic because she wasn’t sure if she was dressed for the occasion. She wore a maxi dress that clung to her curves firmly but gently, her braids flowed, face did, and she smelled like everything a man in love could ask for. I looked at her like one of those 90s cartoon characters whose eyes were popping out of their sockets, and the pupils jumped out even further. She’s frustrated with me because I gave her no clue where we were going and when she wanted to know how she looked— I let her fester in her anger. One, because I know she’s been perfect; the other, because I know this anger will give way to a smile in a couple of hours."You look nice," I say. She rolls her eyes, while I subtly put mine back in my face.

Just before we leave, I sneak a text to the chef: "ETA 7:15." When we finally get in the car, to throw her off, and because I’m GPS dependent, I put our church address in. “You’re taking me to church on Valentine’s Day?” she asks, shocked. I say nothing, thankful the Chef doesn’t text me back so his message doesn’t pop up on the dashboard monitor and give what I’ve been planning away. Meanwhile, I let her boil and simmer in the idea that I’m taking her to a building that’s not fit for what I have in store. In my mind, I laugh because I know only the brilliance of God would have it that He would place the church right around the corner from the Airbnb where I would be asking for her hand in marriage. Just like how at the time we were living together within a 5-minute walk from where we met on the subway. Just like a massive Rubik's Cube, this is how God has been aligning the stars for us. This is the manifestation of what He meant by what He puts together; no man could separate.¹

The ride is maybe 25 minutes, and your mother, being the planner for us, is a person who needs to know. To be in a car and not know the destination is making her anxious. When I make a turn not in front of the church, but instead onto a residential block, your mother turns Hot. Demanding to know where we are going because she realizes there are no restaurants nearby, and because she is not too fond of the Caribbean raucous on Flatbush Junction. We park, and just to turn things up a little, I say with a smile, “We are here.” She’s seething now, worse than if I had taken her to a church she already thinks is decrepit—she thinks I’m taking her to a social gathering for Valentine’s Day. This could not be going any better.

We walk past a residential house, into the backyard to a beautiful barn door and... Well let's just say… I can show you better than I can tell you.

After the ring and the dinner, I take your mother’s hand and lead her to the couch. I hook up my laptop to the flat screen on the wall and play a video I've been working on for months, staying late at work to get it done. I had everyone, from your grandmother in NY and your grandmother in Alabama to friends who've witnessed our relationship grow from the beginning, send a video congratulating us. You might not be a planner, but when you’re in love, you become one, driven by the blueprint of love, and everyone and everything, including God, will conspire to make this love happen.

To be honest, I can't remember the exact words I said to her. I planned everything, but this moment. Today, when I asked her if she remembers, she can't recall them either. It is only now that I understand when they say people will forget what you said, but remember how you made them feel. I hope you grow up to treat people with love and kindness, always. These will be the people who will show up and ride for you. And if you are lucky like I was, you’ll have the pleasure of calling one of them your wife.

Love,

Daddy

P.S: Three months later, we held our wedding in that very same barn. But that's a tale for another letter.

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Let me know your thoughts:

1. When’s the last time someone did something thoughtful for you?

2. When’s the last time you did something thoughtful for someone else?

3. I had to tell a lie or two that week. Is it ever okay to tell a lie?

4. Ask me (almost) anything about that day and I’ll do my best to answer.

5. Honesty Hour: I screwed up Valentine’s Day this year. How would you make up Valentine’s Day?

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Want more of Myles’ Letters?

• Myles met his Grandfather in Brooklyn, NY

• Read about My Wife’s Love Affair - It’s exactly what you don’t think

• Have you ever been Cooking in the Bathroom kind of tired?

• Check out Carrying the Gift, Holding the Love

• Read about Our first Father’s Day.

1. Matthew 19:6