My most vivid memory, well one of them, was this one: I stood standing in the hallway of the bed and breakfast, holding my colorful bouquet of flowers. My feet hurt (already) from my three inch heels, my hair is pulled and curled up over my head, my dress instantly puts three feet of space around, my father stands patiently awkward beside me waiting for the signal. But I only have eyes for the bouquet. It’s shaking and it won’t stop. Why isn’t anyone else commenting on the earthquake that seems to happening *right now.*
My rational brain finally kick in.
That’s not an earthquake. That’s you. You’re shaking.
Deep breathe. It’s time to walk down the aisle.
Did you know that I wrote our vows? I researched everything and included things from his culture and from mine. We also included traditions that explained us. Do you think I remembered a single line? Nope. Our friend, Wayne graciously officiated our vows…after bribing him with a plateful of wings. He said a line, I looked confused, S____ would repeat the line (three words at a time), and then I would repeat the lines.
I was told time and time again that our ceremony was one of the best ceremonies that people ever attended.
And here we are ten years later. Still goofy as ever, with all of our ups and downs.
I’d insert a picture of my flowers…but eh, you’ll just have to wait till I get home.