From the moment I met you, I did not know what to do. We are miles apart in many ways. You are younger by 15 years. From a country I know very little about. You have travelled all your life, at first for economic reasons; latterly for sheer fun. I am so settled, so lacking in culture, so old - relatively so!
That, though, is society talking! I am hardly the middle-aged crisis looking for a dream. You, yourself hardly the ingénue, have a power and a mystery you are in control of from first to last. Despite your looks, you have shunned cameras and riches, opting rather to tread the craftswomans' path, living by your etchings and watercolors.
You wink at me. I waggle my brows, first one... then the other. You laugh, with your eyes first, before the mirth fills-out your lips and we run, kicking off our shoes to climb higher and higher and higher and higher and higher...
At the top of the hills we race, flowers brushing our ankles as your hair streams out behind you, your dorky center-parting bathed in sunlight and mists. Easily outpacing you, I wrap my arms around you and lift you up and over my shoulder, carrying you across my breadth as I run further still, your laughter and shouts filling the air with your arms spread wide. You take flight as I run, carrying us both up into the air above, with the birds and with the bees.
Free, you take a job as designer for the Moth Queen, an elegant lady who likes to wear silks and chiffon. I work in the garage, making sure the beetles' cars are gleaming black, and ready to roll forth. At nights we dine on nectar and sweet, sweet wines made of peach fuzz and apricot scent.
The days off are spent on a special project. Turn by turn we choose to elect one each. Last month you chose to make us both shoes out of poetry, this went well and now we walk step by step, in perfect metred harmony.
The month before that, I took you to the moooon. When you realised how much this boy likes cheese, we almost stayed, but I could not bear to have you leave the fig trees you've brought-up from birth.
This month, as a treat, we're going to do something together that we both agree on. I am hoping that you will suggest the same as me: marriage. A project for life. The moths and the beetles, and the birds, the bees, the buttercup flowers and your parents and mine, will all be there to celebrate.
I do hope this ring fits, I made it myself.