Many moons ago, on a tender summer evening in the city of light, a gentlemanly Bruin boy asked a sassy Bruin girl if she’d accompany him on a stroll along the Seine. She said yes, and wine and baguette in hand, they witnessed night turn into morning until their heated foreign policy mock arguments (code for nerdy flirtation) led them back to her home base. He dropped her off at her door, only to knock an hour later and boyishly profess his love. That week’s game theory class fresh in her mind, she politely played hard to get and closed the door on him, only to spend the rest of their study abroad smitten.
Since then, they’ve spent many a moonlight and sunlight together — exploring the world, traveling through life, and growing in love.
Reader, I’ve always known myself. And he was the first to recognize me. And on a tender summer day under the magic of a most precious Fig tree at UCLA this weekend, I said yes to the love that grows from that deep, rooted recognition.
I said yes to honoring the heart.
It was made all the more special that my incredible Pap с любовью / սիրով designed the majestic treasure on my finger, which I will cherish forever. And that I get to celebrate and bask in the warmth of my family.
Forever grateful for @ucla, and the sparkle of Paris. One gave me not only a stellar education but also the love of my life, while the other made me fall in love with life.
How the Day Unfolded
With the gentlest nudges hinting at surprise.
A week or so prior to that weekend, my darling told me we had been invited to a recruiting event at UCLA, our alma mater, followed by a work-related dinner at the Polo Lounge of the Beverly Hills Hotel. Recruiting is a recurring theme in the lives of attorneys, so it was not an out-of-the-ordinary occurrence; and besides, he had sneakily and painstakingly thought of all the details to keep me in surprise-mode. In retrospect, though, I now giggle at the nervous question he let loose when he saw me getting ready in a black dress that morning — “You said your mom helped you out with the dress for the evening; is black a good color for the evening’s festivities?” — followed by my confused response, “Why wouldn’t it? Classy and elegant.”
The morning began slowly, gently. He made a delicious breakfast for us, as he often does on weekends. We watched a Netflix show and continued the regularity of the day with a workout at our local gym. He began getting slightly antsy as the day progressed, but I shrugged it off as our usual attempt (keyword, attempt) to get to destinations on time. We left our home in DTLA late, and little did I know that I was cruising on the I-10 freeway toward Santa Monica in the passenger seat of the beginning notes signaling the biggest, loveliest adventure of 2021. We parked in the same UCLA parking lot where we used to say our goodbyes after classes, and on our walk from car to campus, a surge of sweet emotions flooded my face. I was oscillating between expressing random mumblings about public policy and musing over the years of youth that had been lovingly spent in school. We walked by our favorite spots on campus, and we meandered from Royce Hall to the cozy field in front of Schoenberg Music Hall.
I am not altogether superstitious, but my goodness, there was an evening long ago when I had first accepted my offer to join UCLA as an undergraduate. My high school friends and I went to a student production of Mozart at Schoenberg Hall, and I recall walking away from the group for a moment. And in that moment, there was something inside me that whispered I’d marry the guy who’d walk these grounds with me here.
Fast forward years and there I was with the guy from my Europe study abroad group of friends, who was professing his love for me on that very same grassy field.
And on August 28, 2021, he asked me to marry him. Months ago, as a beautiful nod to respect and tradition, he asked for my father’s blessing and for my hand in marriage. And there we were, on that sunlit summery afternoon. My darling took me to that very spot at Schoenberg Hall where we had deep conversations about all things life. He had the fig tree — the very same one from years ago — ornate with laminated photographs of our travels and adventures together over the years. It looked like a summery Christmas tree! And on the ground near the fig tree’s roots were rose petals shaped like a big heart. It was there, in that heart-shaped ring of roses, that he took me by the hand, gentlemanly went down on one knee, and asked me to marry him. I said yes in every language I knew, and thus began our adventure toward wedded life together. 🙂
He then surprised me again by taking me to a dinner he had planned at the Polo Lounge of the Beverly Hills Hotel, where we were walked in on a beautiful garden, at the center of which there was a table seating our family. Toasts and celebrations ensued. And the day, along with the evening, sweetly entered into my poetic memory.
