4 years on the 4th

I canNOT believe it’s already been four years since I married you. The details of that day are still so fresh in my mind, the most crisp memories, and yet as a whole, the day was a blur. That morning had the chilly brightness of early spring, not a cloud in the sky. I remember walking through Hobby Lobby with you the week before and crying because the weather report predicted it would be rainy and freezing, which it was, until that morning. My house was hustling with about ten ladies from church helping to ice about 600 cupcakes. (Seriously. Whose idea was that? Oh, right. Mine.) It felt like our little corner of the world was all abuzz with our wedding. I know you enjoyed a greasy breakfast with the men at a local dive while I enjoyed a much more dainty fare at my bridesmaid’s luncheon. Our sweet friends spent so much energy running our errands, finalizing last minute details, and being there to squeeze our hands or pat our backs. Everyone was so excited for us. After our respective time with the photographer, my bridesmaids all sat in a circle and wiped grass stains off my dress. That’s a little detail I will always remember.

I didn’t see you until 5:30 that afternoon. I think from 5:00 to 5:30 had to be the longest half hour of my life. I assumed that the doors opening from the back of the church would signal the universe unraveling because that was always the moment I imagined in my mind, even as a little girl. I remember seeing you at the end of the aisle, but I don’t remember much beyond that. People told us we swayed back and forth in unison for awhile. I suppose for all the planning and anticipation, we were still nervous.

By the time we got to the reception at Gardner-Webb, that coolness was back, bringing with it a smell of newness that only April can give. I remember gobbling a plate of roast beef while you changed into your reception suit. (Who was the diva then, I ask? Ha!)

Our first dance was the longest Avett Brothers song EVER written. People didn’t know where to find the tequila shots (because there weren’t any.) We ran out of garbage can space. The DJ played Journey WAY too early in the evening.

We had cupcakes and elementary school milks. Your buddy Jason caught the garter. Your sister Katie caught the bouquet completely by accident. Your dad gave the most precious toast. My dad and I danced to Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” because that was our favorite song when I was little. Our old friends were there. Our new Greenville friends were there. Family members that are no longer with us were there. Some sneaky people used that dadgummed car paint that is still on my Honda. We stopped at a gas station in Gaffney to get bottled water and when you told the lady we were headed to Panama for our honeymoon, she said “Florida is lovely this time of year.”

I don’t think there ever was a more perfect day. I want to do it all again. But only if you’re there. Because you are my very best friend. The one who laughs at the same stupid things I laugh at. The one who speaks Sein-language with me. The one who makes our little boy giggle. The one who makes the BEST dang quesadillas. The one who supports my crazy creative endeavors even when I’m not sure I know what I’m doing. The one who strives to be a Godly man and leader of our little family. I am blessed beyond measure. I love you! Happy anniversary. Here’s to 60 more!

Love,

Wifey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

photo by Smitten Photography