Once upon a time

Four years ago today I married my husband.

It was an awesome day. Really, it was. Just perfect. Sure, there were things that didn't go the way they were planned; doesn't it always happen that way? But in the end, after everything was all said and done, we fell into each other's arms and said, "that was great!"

Since I put up pictures of my bouquet last week and went on and on about how much I loved it, today I'll put up the uncropped photograph. It was taken immediately after the ceremony, in a quiet alcove in the back of the church. This, I think, is one of those pictures worth a thousand words.


The ring on his finger was our best man's; 25 minutes before the ceremony I realized I had left his ring in my overnight bag that was still at the hotel I had gotten ready in. That was at 5:35p. On a Wednesday afternoon of rush hour traffic of greater DC. No chance that ring was going to make it to the church in time for the ceremony. Why didn't I give it to the maid of honor? Because she was 11-years-old. Despite her tender age, she performed her duties very well, but when it came to her new stepfather's wedding ring, I thought it best not to put that responsibility on her shoulders. Now that I look back on it, she might have done a better job with the responsibility than I did. Our best man has promised that the secret is safe with him.

I have to go out now during lunch and find a card for my husband. Finding cards for him is one of the most difficult things I do. The prose is never quite right and always seems canned. But to buy a blank card is even harder because then I have to think of how to put my feelings into words.