Whatever unpleasantness met our return, the trip was fantastic. Together with my parents, brother, sister-in-law, and toddler nephew we stayed in a simple house a short walk from the ocean, located within the confines of a Central Pacific beach resort. We had four air-conditioned bedrooms and three bathrooms, plus a kitchen and living areas that were covered but open-air, surrounding a small swimming pool and jacuzzi.
We spent much of the trip lazing in the hammocks hanging over the pool, listening to the house geckos chattering from the walls, chasing after Nathan as he toddled around the house, and playing cards into the wee hours. The nearby beach offered white sand, calm, warm water, and endless shells and coral to scavenge. The fresh local seafood kept our bellies full and content, and icy cold limonadas slaked our thirst. Steve and I managed several early-morning beach runs, a half-day sea kayaking excursion, and spent a day driving south along the coast and body-surfing the enormous waves at Playa Hermosa.
The best day must have been Wednesday, which started with a run up a steep cliff-hugging road and down to a private white-sand beach, and ended with a breathtaking sunset viewed from the cliff-side amphitheater at Villa Caletas, Costa Rica's finest hotel (and a place I hope to stay someday). And in the middle, Steve gave me a diamond ring.
He and I had driven a little ways north of our resort, then up a steep, winding dirt road into the country's rainforested interior. We paid a small fee to a man in a wooden shack perched on the side of the road, for the privilege of hiking down an impossibly steep path through the rainforest, which purported to lead (eventually) to a stunning waterfall. The day was steaming hot and humid, and soon I was pouring sweat. Finally, I had to remove my hearing aids and put them in Steve's backpack to spare them any further immersion in the moist air and my own perspiration. We seemed to be descending forever, with no waterfalls in sight, and the sweat and sunscreen began to drip burning trickles into my eyes. So there I was, squinting and rubbing my eyes, wobbling off-balance without my hearing aids, and pouring sweat. And so I expressed my appreciation of the lush and exotic surroundings with a string of expletives that would have made a trucker blush.
Somehow, we reached the falls, and stripped to bathing suits to dip into the cool, clear water of the pools at their base. Some young Costa Rican boys were playing in the pool we reached first, and we splashed around with them and watched them jump into the water from the rocks.
After a little while, Steve suggested we move down to the next pool, so we schlepped our belongings over the rocks to a more secluded spot. When Steve told me to go sit on a big rock in the middle of the water, I suddenly realized what was happening, so I made him first give me his shirt to dry my hands and ears, and replaced my hearing aids. Now I was giggling, most of my sweat and frustration forgotten.
Steve pulled something out of the backpack and waded over to my rock, then crouched down and handed me a small box. I opened it up, only to find yet another decoy ring, this one a huge, gaudy, tin-and-rhinestone flower. Still giggling, a little confused, I looked at him. He was smiling, maybe shaking a little, and he held up something sparkly between his fingers. "You can have that one if you want, or you can have this one," he said.
And "this one" was so, so beautiful - the small, exquisite round center stone from his grandmother's ring in a solitaire with three of the tiny stones from my great-aunt's brooch cascading down from either side and flowing into a slim, shiny platinum band. Steve asked me if I was still willing to marry him. I put the ring on my sweaty, wet finger and said . . . Yes! (Of course I said yes - what else could I possibly say!)
In the middle of my bliss, after gazing awe-struck at my sparkly finger, I realized we still had to schlep all the way back UP the damn trail. Reluctantly, I put the ring back in the box for the messy hike up. Then, just as we had tied our shoes and started the upward trek, it began to rain in the rainforest. I put on my big khaki sunhat to protect my hearing aids from the downpour, and we set off in the rain. As it turned out, the way up was far easier than the descent, because the rain kept us cool and because we spent the whole hike laughing at the state of our drenchedness and smooching in the warm and gentle-but-heavy rain. The deluge also brought out some of the forest life, and we saw several different kinds of lizards and even a couple of poison-arrow frogs along the way.
Eventually, we were back at the car, though I restrained myself from putting the ring back on until I'd washed my hands. Almost a week later, I still can't stop staring at this sparkly wonder gracing my hand. I love the way it flashes fire and light, but most of all, I love that its diamonds come from both of our families, and that they belonged to strong, wonderful women before they became mine.
