ROME: February, 2003 (Part 2)

Speaking of wifedom, I was in the throes of curiosity myself. It was early in the new year but it was difficult not to explicate William's sentence:

You're going to do something to make the proposal happen.

We climbed over crumbling stone, weeds and cracked plaster. We placed our hands on marble walls and thought about people living their lives here so long ago. We took pictures and even when I see them now I swear I can see my mind percolating. Do what? What will I do to pop a proposal out of him?

January was too early, I knew that. My flight home was right before Valentine's Day, so that couldn't be it. He would never propose over the phone or email...would he?

Those pictures of me are carefree, happy, delighted, and on my way to crazy.

After our long afternoon of sightseeing we were ready for dinner, but alas, too early. Bars were open with snacks but a real dinner would have to wait until restaurants opened at seven-thirty. We window-shopped, stopped in music shops and bookstores and browsed in clothing stores.

By the time we opened the door of a small trattoria to order wine and study the menu, we were ready to chew cardboard. William ended up cutting into a perfect steak, charred on the outside and dripping red on the inside. Quite appropriate after visiting the Colosseum. My red was in the glass of wine I had paired with a salad, baked fish and tender ravioli stuffed with creamy cheese.

After wending our way home to the Excelsior and tucking into bed, I whispered to William that I would be off again in the morning — but no worries, since his laundry was done and the fridge was stocked. I'd be back in a week. Fairly warned, he kissed me good night.

Maybe my return from ports south would be "the thing." Maybe I was giving him a week to prepare a proposal. I fell blissfully asleep, unaware I wasn't even in the ballpark, timing-wise. I was as ignorant as Julius Caesar out for a spring walk.