I searched for just the right tree. The bark had to be smooth but soft. It could not be at the edge of the woods, where everyone could see it, but I did not want to go too deep into the woods either.

You never know what might be lurking there.

Years passed. There was a wedding, a kid, a move to another state. More kids. We kept the farm even after my parents were gone.

"The barn was here", I scuffed the leaves and dead weeds from a cement apron. "From the loft, I could see to the creek." I was trying to describe my younger days to my oldest granddaughter, Mary Kate. "It burned down while we were living in Texas."

She listened and asked questions. Humoring me, I suppose. Her mother had brought her up right.

"Your grandmother lived just down the road. Past that curve. We would all slide down the hill on our sleds in the winter."

We stood for a moment; me lost in memories of the past. I'm not sure what Mary Kate was thinking. She took my hand.

"Did you think then that you would be married?"

"I did, She took some convincing. I waited twelve years for her."

"That's sweet."

We continued our walk. "We used to swim in this creek." We stood looking at the narrow stream that tumbled down a small rocky falls into a pool about the size of a bathtub. I cleared my throat, "It seemed bigger in those days."

"Can we pick some flowers for mom and gramma?" Mary Kate asked.

The next time we were all together at the farm, the earth had done several more trips around the sun. MK took charge of her brother and younger cousins while the older folk caught up on the broad porch.

"I'll show you where Granpa and Gramma went skinnydipping," I heard her saying as they all streamed off the porch towards the pasture.

Hours later they were back. "Poppa, can I show you something?" MK asked me, phone in hand.

She did something with her fingers and a picture came up on the screen. "I think I found it."

I don't know how long I stood, looking at the picture; thinking back over the years but it apparently wasn't long. Mary Kate, or Kat, as she liked to be called those days, went on as though there was no pause, "It isn't very clear but you can see it here, and here."

"It's great, honey. Can we print it out?"

We got a decent copy from the printer and I took a pencil and shaded it in a little. "It's just like I remembered it 60 some years ago," I told her.

"What's that?" my wife had just wandered in from the porch.

I handed her the picture. "This was just after the barn dance at Libby's. The next day, in fact."

The picture showed a thick tree trunk, probably a beech, with a faint heart and the initials "TW + BD 57'

It was a tender moment and I thought my wife was starting to get a bit teary but then she said, "And it took you twelve years to propose? What were you thinking?"