A Dozen Years And Three Lifetimes Ago

I remember being somewhat annoyed that everyone was making the day all about me because I was the one in the beautiful white dress and veil.  (As far as I was concerned, there were two of us getting married, and Himself needed some say too...he wasn't just a decorative accessory in a tuxedo!)  And life wasn't going to come to an end if we had to make a last-minute substitution of reader or offertory-carryer or whatever it was because somebody's aunt and uncle hadn't followed the driving directions and were late getting to the church...as long as we were married by the end of the day, nothing else was really going to matter in the grand scheme of things.

I remember laughing with Himself as we knelt side-by-side during the ceremony because the siren from the firehouse next door to the church kept going off (and off, and OFF), drowning out the priest's voice.  And also because we were pretty sure that one of the tapers that our mothers had used to light the unity candle was going to set the altar on fire before the wedding Mass ended because it was burning down much faster than it should have!  

I remember that a friend of mine from graduate school flew halfway across the country and then took a bus the rest of the way so that she could be with us.  I also remember that after the formal reception ended, we stayed downstairs at the hotel with our friends and family instead of taking off because so many of our loved ones were there and we didn't want to give up the time with them.  When we did finally steal away, I remember looking at Himself and being overwhelmed by the simple rightness of it all, of having him standing next to me, matching rings on fingers, at the end of the day when all the craziness was over.  

Twelve years later, I still feel the same way...happy anniversary to us.