Although several years had passed, the park still held tainted memories. She’d stood under the picnic shelter, clutching a carefully penned letter addressed to him. It wasn’t the kind of letter you want to remember, but it held a message that was hard to forget: “I like you, but the timing isn’t right. We’re over.” She had said it more kindly, verbosely. She’d written several pages to get to that point. Tried to make it easier to hear. Attempted to soften the blow. But there it was. His new reality. A painful reality.
Time passed, like it tends to. The park stayed right where it’d always been. The seasons passed, changing the landscape and moving life forward. The changing seasons also signaled changing perspectives and changing opinions. What had been poor timing several years before now morphed into right timing. Perfect timing.
Friendship grew. Relationship flourished. The time was right.
He took her back to that same picnic shelter, this time to create a better memory.
A happy memory.
He proposed that day, in that same picnic shelter, in that same park. And she accepted.
The time was right.