Memory takes me by the hand and tugs, imploring me to come along with her “on an adventure.”
I look at her, my eyebrows raised in agitation. There is no way I’m going with her on what she calls an adventure. She can just sit by herself or think of someplace exciting to take me. What she’s asking me to do just isn’t worth it. That was an embarrassing time and I don’t care to visit it again, thank you very much. I dig my heels in and determine to stay put. My mind isn’t going down that trail.
When she sees how resolute I am, she changes her tune and asks if we can take another trip down her lane. Well, that all depends. There are several places along Memory lane we could stop and revisit, but she needs to choose one that I wouldn’t mind visiting again.
She furrows her brow, thinking hard. Suddenly her eyes light up.
This better be good.
She whispers in my ear. My eyes rival hers in brightness at this thought. Yes, I can stop there.
My wedding day.
June 23, 1984.
The day began wonderfully. My best friend/maid of honor spent the night and when we woke up I’m sure we talked about the day ahead and how excited I was. We got up and went to get some breakfast. The house was abuzz with people, there for the wedding. The zwieback and cantaloupe I ate were delicious. A great breakfast for the bride.
The rest of the morning is a blur. I know I got everything together and we were at the church by eleven o’clock to get ready for the wedding at one o’clock. I put on my makeup just so and curled my hair. Soon, it was time to get into my beautiful gown. Suddenly (and this is the only mar on the memory) an old friend from another town was in the room with my bridesmaids and me. She picked up my veil and put it on, looking at herself in the mirror. I was too flabbergasted to say anything. Fortunately she went on her way and I could get dressed in peace. Finally, I was ready.
Meanwhile, my soon-to-be-husband had been tricked into taking a photo he did not want – checking his watch. Ah well. The only mar on his memory of our special day. After he was ready he waited outside with the pastor and his best man to come into the church. He remembers how hot it was. I don’t remember the day being hot at all, but of course, I wasn't waiting outside either.
The moment arrived.
My trip down the aisle to my beloved, on my Dad’s arm.
Never had a journey seemed so long and so short at the same time.
My eyes were on his face, looking straight into his eyes. This is it. Love connected our hearts, our souls. I’m sure everyone could see the sparks between us as we gazed at each other.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
“Jesus, her mother, and I, and her brothers also approve.” My dad said, causing everyone to chuckle. It was a priceless moment. He kissed me on the cheek and put my hand into the warm hand of the man I had come to love immeasurably.
Throughout the ceremony we whispered to each other, somewhat oblivious to what was going on around us. During one of the songs, we sang to each other, quietly. It was after all, ‘our song’.
As we spoke the vows we had written, our eyes shimmering with tears, our love was sealed forever.
We walked down the aisle as husband and wife, the grins on our faces dazzling enough to light the room.
We were married!
We knew this day was the beginning of an adventure to be lived, our hearts united with each other and with God, until death parted us.
Memory looks at me, a question in her eyes. “How was that?”
“Wonderful. Thank you for taking me down your lane and stopping at this most treasured memory. I’m sure you and I will visit again soon.”
Her eyes twinkle, a gleeful expression on her face. “Oh, I’m sure we will. I’m sure we will. But remember there will always be those painful and embarrassing moments, I have to show you too.”
“Oh, yes. I know. Today just wasn’t the day for those kinds of memories.”
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