Loved this!
From the Metropolitan Diary in todays NY Times:
'Dear Diary:
On the Saturday before Christmas, I paid a visit to the Metropolitan Museum. On my way out, I was passing through the grand hall where the Met places its Christmas tree each year.
For some reason, I noticed a couple, a man and woman in their mid-20s. The man’s head was bowed, and I was a bit concerned that he was perhaps ill.
I stopped and stood off to the side to see if he was all right, if she would lead him to a bench. Soon I noticed that he was holding her hand and placing something on her finger. It became clear what it was when I saw the small box he was also holding.
They stood and talked for a few minutes, and as they did he kept brushing tears from his cheeks.
She was much more matter-of-fact, smiling, putting her hand on his head, also wiping tears from his face.
I imagined the planning that had gone into this moment. The purchase of the ring. The suggestion to go to the Met. His guiding her to the tree.
I was tempted to approach them and offer my congratulations, but I don’t think they knew anyone had witnessed the event, and this was their moment, not mine.
I waited until they had walked off into the museum, and I left, silently wishing them a long and happy life together.
Peter W. Devine'
'Dear Diary:
On the Saturday before Christmas, I paid a visit to the Metropolitan Museum. On my way out, I was passing through the grand hall where the Met places its Christmas tree each year.
For some reason, I noticed a couple, a man and woman in their mid-20s. The man’s head was bowed, and I was a bit concerned that he was perhaps ill.
I stopped and stood off to the side to see if he was all right, if she would lead him to a bench. Soon I noticed that he was holding her hand and placing something on her finger. It became clear what it was when I saw the small box he was also holding.
They stood and talked for a few minutes, and as they did he kept brushing tears from his cheeks.
She was much more matter-of-fact, smiling, putting her hand on his head, also wiping tears from his face.
I imagined the planning that had gone into this moment. The purchase of the ring. The suggestion to go to the Met. His guiding her to the tree.
I was tempted to approach them and offer my congratulations, but I don’t think they knew anyone had witnessed the event, and this was their moment, not mine.
I waited until they had walked off into the museum, and I left, silently wishing them a long and happy life together.
Peter W. Devine'
