It was pretty hot in my parents’ backyard six years ago. My mom, Lindy, and I had tied bows on a million fans so that people could stay cooler, and someone had the brilliant idea beforehand to freeze a bunch of bottles of water, so my brothers were handing those out, too. It was still pretty stifling even though the guests were sitting under the canvas shelters, so I’m glad they had multiple ways of keeping themselves comfortable, since they were there for me.
Well, me and the guy who became my husband that day.
I’d always wanted to get married outside. Some little girls dream about a church wedding, walking down the aisle and all that, but since I spent more hours outside up a tree than I did thinking about which colors any future bridesmaids would wear, it was a no-brainer. Actually, the only wedding planning I remember doing as a kid was deciding that my wedding would be outside. The house I lived in had a very prominent front walk up to the door, with yard on either side to set chairs for guests, and I could see a long train cascading down the steps to the porch... it was going to be perfect. Since my wedding was in a different place, there was no sidewalk and no front steps, but I did have a long cascading train.
How we settled on July I can’t remember. Maybe it was that May was too early and August was too late, and everyone got married in June and I didn’t want to get married in June if everyone else was. That day my Grandpa told me that at his wedding (inside, in June), it was 110 in the shade! It wasn’t quite that hot at mine, but it was certainly warm enough. Summer + Nebraska + outside = hot.
I don’t remember being overly hot. There are pictures of my husband and I, sitting on the bench in the shade of the big tree, cooling off after taking pictures and before the ceremony. I must’ve been hot, but the only time I definitely remember being warm was at the reception, coming off the dance floor, sweating, when there were only about fifteen or twenty people still there. I was downing every glass of water I could get my hands on, and someone handed me a pitcher of water. There’s a picture of me drinking out of it, and I have to remind anyone who sees it that, “no, I wasn’t tipsy, I was just thirsty. We were shakin’ it. ‘She’s a brick... house...’”
Planning a wedding is pretty exhausting. You work hard and set things up meticulously and it all comes down to one day where at least one thing will definitely go wrong and you hope that it won’t be something huge like the groom being missing and is only something little like the caterers promising one thing and giving you completely the wrong potato salad.
On the day of, though, you’re feeling so many things that it’s hard to keep track of whether this shindig you planned is going well. Did your Grandma show up yet? Is your hair falling down in the back? Did the best man find out that the flower you ordered for him is pink even though he swore he wouldn’t stand for wearing any pink? (Heh, heh.) Is your mom crying again? Will you be able to get through the ceremony/seeing the groom for the first time/your dad giving you away/seeing your mom crying without bawling? (Answer: no.)
Through all of these feelings, you have to step back and calm down and realize that you shouldn’t be thinking about all these other things, because you’re getting married today. You have to remind yourself that if you don’t slow down, you won’t be able to enjoy it, and the only memories you’ll have are of being stressed out all day.
I love going back to look at the pictures of the ceremony. It’s great to see the looks on our faces during the different parts of it: serious when saying our vows, laughing when Schmoove accidentally asked me if I wanted to take my groom as my wife, then getting serious again when we moved on to the “I do”s. One of the greatest series of pictures is our exit. Since it was so warm, everyone got a little squirtgun to shoot at us instead of tossing rice or birdseed or blowing bubbles. The photographer got everything from just before my new father-in-law turned the hose on us to my new husband lifting me up and tossing me in the back of the BMW convertible in lieu of opening the door before we zoomed away.
The pictures from the reception are pretty great too, each table took pictures of who was there with little disposable cameras. My favorite set of photos from the reception are from the table that was occupied by my husband’s family, of the squirtgun fight between two of my husband’s cousins. I’m not sure which one had the upper hand, but the final picture is the best: my Grandpa grinning as he sneak attacked them both.
I have lots of wonderful memories: my beautiful cousins carrying my train down the “aisle,” wearing Groucho Marx glasses at the reception, my dad’s speech (in which he introduced himself as “Bill. Bill Payer”), and the guys playing “BoxTent” the next morning at breakfast. But as wonderful as it was, it’s not as good as what happened after.
Some people lose sight of the facts during their engagement, or the planning stage, or on the day of. They focus on the dress, the people attending, or what songs the DJ will play at the reception. What they forget is that there is something after the wedding... and it’s the rest of your life.
I treasure the memories I have of my wedding day. I treasure the little anniversary traditions that I have (like trying on my dress every year; it has always fit me, even when I was pregnant! Not that I zipped it all the way up, or anything). But the thing I treasure most is the fact that I get to spend the rest of my life with the wonderful man who stood beside me during the ceremony.
No matter how many times he steals the covers at night or how many weird, random places I find his wedding ring (on the floor of the basement?) or how many times we have the same conversation about what we’ll have for dinner, I always know that I got the best man in the whole world. He is the best husband and father I could ever have hoped for, and six years isn’t enough time for me to show him how awesome I think he is and to fully get it through my head how marrying him was the best decision I ever made.
Good thing I've got the rest of my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment