The First Ten Years

Ten years ago, right now, as I type this, I was leaving the church a married woman. It was the best day of my life, maybe tied now with the day I first held my son. Everything went according to plan, but the food, the music, the flowers, the gown, none of that can compare to the importance of that day. Though I remember every moment, from the time the alarm went off until I fell asleep in my new husband's arms, the few things that stick with me most are: stepping into the aisle and seeing the Husband at the front of the church, saying our vows to each other, and the absolutely rightness I felt when I looked in his eyes. It was a perfect day. We had a morning wedding. While I am most decidedly NOT a morning person, not even a little not even at all, I couldn't imagine an entire day of waiting, rushing, getting ready, being nervous. Our day flowed perfectly - I had all the time I needed and not a single moment to sit around and wonder if something would go wrong. We had a lovely ceremony. Officiated by my good friend Rev. Dr. Bob Maravalli, the ceremony fit our hopes exactly - good message and short. When Bob asked us during the premarital counseling "how do you envision the ceremony?" we both said "Short". M sang and did a lovely job. The Husband's friends managed to pull a small, unnoticeable to anyone but us prank. The flowers were perfect, everyone looked perfect. All of our friends and relatives attended (and were, uh, as perfect as they can be . . . ) We had a customized brunch menu. I am sure I was the most bizarre and difficult bride to work with food-wise. Oh, I was no bride-zilla, as those girls are now being called, but I wanted what I wanted for my first meal as a married lady. And it was delicious - stuffed french toast, made-to-order omelets, all the breakfast fixings and some lunch as well. We had a great pasta station, a waffle station and a pastries station, so that if your table hadn't been sent to the buffet yet, you could still get plenty to eat. The hall gave me my own little food-slave, who preceded me down the buffet, filling my plate with what I pointed to, and then ran to the other stations for me. We had an open bar, but only wine and beer - who needs the hard stuff at noon? People who wanted to still managed to get sloshed (I'm talking to you, both of my grandmas). We danced and danced. I was the first one on the dance floor and the last one off (they actually kicked us out, I would've kept going.) When the DJ played "my song" - Dancing Queen by Abba, the bridesmaids made a circle around me on the floor and I shook my groove thang. It was fantastic. Of course, the wedding is just a day. The marriage is what counts, and I couldn't ask for more. Yes, we've had our ups and downs, good days and bad, but I wouldn't trade a single one of them. Being married to the right person is the best feeling in the world, and I hope I live up to my end of the bargain. I love you, Husband, and I look forward to a hundred more anniversaries, if God will give them to us. Special thanks to my parents, who footed the bill for most of the party, to my in-laws - who, besides being the best in-laws of anyone I know, raised my perfect mate and my MIL also made our wedding centerpieces, aisle decorators and a lovely shadowbox with flowers from my bouquet, to M - the BEST maid of honor anyone's ever had and the only person who knows me almost as well as the Husband (sometimes I feel like she's part of the marriage, he got us both in the deal, but you know - not in the gross way) and to everyone who showed up to wish us well. And to my grandmothers who's drunken escapades make for a great family story.