Fourteen years ago today. Fourteen long years, with many beautiful days, many difficult days, many days of tenderness and comfort and harmony.
Fourteen years ago today, I was waking up on my wedding day. I was eighteen, very young, and my wedding dress had had to be taken in by hand because my waist was so tiny.
I wasn’t a bit nervous, not a bit, and I couldn’t understand why everyone kept asking me if I was. Why would I be nervous? How could I feel anything but joy? I remember how calm I was, in the whirling storm of everyone else’s rushing and arranging.
I remember my father, standing on the hem of my dress as we entered the hall, and me turning and snapping at him. I’m sorry for that now. I never snapped at my daddy, so perhaps I was a little nervous just then.
I remember him crying during the ceremony, and Tony crying a little too, and how embarrassed I was, and how hard I willed them to dry up and be calm.
I remember the photographs, how cold and foggy it was, how everyone shivered during the outdoors photographs, and how warm I felt, even in my sleeveless dress. I remember how easy it was to smile for the cameras, no matter how long it took, nor how many photos they snapped, because I was so happy.
I remember the food at the reception, how good it was, how much everyone enjoyed themselves, and how hungry we were because we were too busy talking to everyone to eat anything ourselves.
I remember the quiet later, when we’d left the reception and were on our own for the first moment that day. I remember every single minute, every single second.
Fourteen precious years. Not a moment too long, my love.