High up on the Yosemite Falls trail, we paused to take a break and enjoy the views. To our left was the falls, which were in full showing from recent rains, and to the right the iconic Half Dome punctuated the horizon in the mid-day sunlight. We sat on a ledge that overlooked the entirety of the falls and down into the valley below. I knew this was the right time. I also knew that it was the last real chance I had. She knew I was going to propose on this week long trip that took us to Tahoe and Yosemite, and every day she took extra time to get ready - she wanted the pictures to be good. So, every day, she got ready and every day we drove to beautiful spots, but no proposal. I was nervous, of course, and it had to be perfect. On the last day of our trip she got ready, but this time she simply threw her hair up in a ponytail. We decided to hike that morning and drove to the trailhead, found a parking spot, and were off. I debated proposing (again), and left the ring in the truck. Overcoming my indecisiveness, I said that I had to go back because I forgot my GPS, so she sat down and waited for me. By the time I got back, about 15 minutes had gone by, and I felt I was doing this all wrong. With renewed courage and the ring stuffed safely in my backpack, we were back at it and continued up the trail. It was hot and humid, so our picture readiness was fading with each sweaty step as we hiked up, and up. I thought about proposing the entire way, running through endless scenarios, all the while trying to be composed for her. And as we climbed higher and higher, the scenery was absolutely beautiful, so I began the search for the right spot - it felt like everything was finally coming together. We turned a corner on the trail and the falls came into full view. This was it, so I suggested we take a break. I snapped several pictures, capturing the beauty before us, and then I became overwhelmed with emotion as I worked myself up to propose to the beauty before me. Waiting for the other hikers to pass became an issue, so valuable time went by. She asked if I was ready to start up again, and I said "no", and a few minutes later she asked the same question and was given the same answer. The time wasn't right. The gap in hikers finally arrived, and the spot was all ours. Against the sound of the roaring falls behind me, I took her hand in mine and faced her. Having snuck the ring out of my backpack, I was ready, or so I thought. I had to choke back tears as I looked into her eyes, trying hard to compose myself as I confessed my love for her. She knew what was happening now. I told her that life had been a challenge for us throughout the five years we've been a couple, but with our love and dedication for each other, we had risen above it all. It was a lot of hard work, but we did it. I said that this hike was symbolic of that. It was a hard, steep trail with plenty of obstacles to make it uncomfortable, and a journey that offered more than a few reasons to turn around and do what was easy. That's not us, though. And, together, we pressed on towards a common goal, a goal we knew was well worth any challenge or discomfort. So, I said, here we are, up above all that had made life hard for us, enjoying a view that we wouldn't have experienced any other way, but that I also didn't want it to end there. I told her I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, that I wanted her to be my wife. I told her that my love for her was more than I could have imagined, and that I wanted that forever. Of course, she said "yes".