Marriage: October 2009 Archives


| | Comments ()
October 28, 2000

... years ago today I walked down the aisle on the arm of my stepfather and prayed that I wouldn't trip on my train. He gripped my arm because he's terrified of being the center of attention anywhere, especially family. 

I didn't look at the faces of all our family and friends, 200 of them, who came to witness the marriage of a young man whom they thought would never marry and a fresh-from-teenhood girl whom they also thought would never marry. 

No one is good enough, the girl and boy had thought. Until they met each other. 

I didn't look at my grandmother who sat in stony silence after my mother sternly told her to behave herself, meaning no faux-fainting spells, wailing, sobbing, and other drama indigenous to my family, drama which manifests at such functions, usually to my amusement. 

I didn't look at my bridesmaids. Or my mother. 

It's funny how we spent so much time picking out flowers and decorations and the like because I didn't even see them while walking down the aisle. I'd forgotten about the colors we so carefully chose for the day, my dress, the food. I'd forgotten about the photographer waiting at the end of the aisle; the sound her shutter made was the only indication I had that time was actually passing. 

It was all so surreal. A flashback to when I was a little girl and thought about what my wedding day would be like; a hazy memory of first crushes, whoosh to when Chris and I first noticed each other from across the room through a sea of people, and finally God brought me to this moment. 

I can't tell you anything about my wedding. Were it not for the video and the guestbook, I wouldn't know who was there. All I saw at that moment was the young man waiting for me at the end of the aisle. And he was crying tears of happiness. 

Everyone has a pro and cons list they keep about themselves, locked away in a corner of their mind. He knows my cons (and I his) and loves me  - oddly, I think he loves me more because of them. 

The other day we argued over something which I'll forget about in a few weeks. We laid in bed, covered in darkness. He took a breath and said: "You know what I love most about you?"

I immediately thought of something physical. 

"You're stubbornness," he answered. "I love how fiercely you stand by things."

And then he kissed my forehead and went to sleep. 

I tried to think what I loved most about him. I went to sleep trying to narrow the list down, such was the length. 

Love. (I'm wearing a wig for Mardi Gras.)

Powered by Movable Type 4.1

Recent Entries





Dana asks: "Thanksgiving Traditions: Yours or Your Mother's?"