It was Everything. It was Nothing.
It was perfect. It was cold and windy and I was in a childish frenzy over a precious little garden shed we had just walked by. We walked to a place we'd never been before where the sun was setting over tree tops and the dry grass crunched under our feet as we climbed the hill. We were both quiet and I knew something was different. Before I knew it, it was happening. There were tears in my eyes and a man on one knee in front of me. He asked me a question but my mind couldn't answer. My body already knew what my mind would have said and answered with a nod and a hardly audible "yes". I was shaking as the ring somehow magically found it's way onto my finger. Then we sat for what seemed like an eternity as the cold air washed over us and the sun sank lower behind the trees.
He told me he couldn't have done it on my birthday. Not at the pond, in the cliffs, or at the camp where I spent my childhood. He said he knew those things were already special to me for their own reasons, and he didn't want to impose a new kind of special onto any of them. Maybe that seems strange to some people but it's suits me perfectly. It was quiet and ordinary. It was its nothingness that made it everything to me.