I Give You This Ring

"Let's fall in love
Why shouldn't we
Fall in love
Our hearts are made of it
Let's take a chance
Why be afraid of it"
 - Let's Fall In Love, Frank Sinatra version, written by Ted Koehle & Harold Arlen

We walked down to the bridge and leaned against each other, taking in the running water and the beauty and calm of the gardens, just as we’d done on an autumn day a year ago while still dating. On that afternoon prior, I couldn’t have known I’d be standing there at dusk in my wedding dress, beside my new husband. I couldn’t have known he would love the place as much as I did, so much so that he surreptitiously picked up a brochure about weddings. In eager anticipation, he began looking into the possibility of us saying "I do" in those gardens before he'd yet proposed. 

Was it the perfect day? To us it was. No rain fell, no vendors canceled, the garden was full with many of our favorite people, the officiant's words were poignant, and we spoke the vows we'd written without a stumble or a doubt. In the just four months of being engaged and planning the wedding, Andy marveled time and again at how communal the act of marriage is, how deeply ingrained is the sense that a committed union is something to celebrate and nurture. We saw it in the joy and excitement people expressed for us, in the way our loved ones reached out eager hands to help, in the thoughtful gifts and cards we received, and how the myriad of details mattered because of what they symbolized to us and to all who gathered for the wedding.

In the bridal suite, hiding out of sight of Andy in the hour before the ceremony, I felt calm and ready. Throughout the day my home had filled with bridesmaids and friends getting ready, hair and makeup perfected and then a flurry of pink dresses all piling into the limo. We sang "Going To The Chapel" together with gusto, and I kept thinking how maybe it should feel strange and surreal that I was a bride on her way to her wedding, but instead it felt like the most natural thing ever. In a way it felt inevitable: of course Andy and I were getting married. Of course the wedding day was here. Of course we were committing to each other for all the times to come. There could be nothing more right. 

Everyone left the suite and I hovered in the doorway, waiting for my queue. When it was time, the assistant coordinator nodded and I walked down the path alone, down to the bridge where Andy and I would escape to at the end of the wedding, but where right then my father was waiting, elbow raised for me to take his arm and a smile lighting his face. The walk taken alone was empowering, and I thought later of other times in my life when I've journeyed solo, not knowing what was waiting ahead. Not knowing if this day would come; the day I would come around the corner on my father's arm and see my fiancé's eyes well up when they landed on me. We held each other's gaze, anchored. 

Humorously, we apparently missed our mark and stood much farther from the officiant than we were supposed to, but once Andy and I were holding hands then such was the blur of anything else we had no clue. I'm thankful that at one point, the officiant instructed us to look out at the support of our community gathered there. It was a moment which stayed with me; for the first time, I looked at the crowd, intentionally picking out faces and feeling my heart well with thanks. 
"You and you and you," I thought. "You're here on our wedding day. What a gift!" 
They saw the rings we exchanged, saw when Andy dipped me for the kiss, and how he lifted me into the air after we'd danced down the aisle, silly with happiness. 

The time passed too quickly, yet some moments are set in time, such as my mother's words to me after the ceremony, and my sister's maid of honor speech. The sun went down and the lights went up on the outdoor dance floor. All too soon, it was time to go. Andy lead us down to the bridge for a moment alone. Instead of walking there solo, as I'd done just hours before, my husband was with me, leading the way. 

Andy pulled me close and murmured for us to enjoy the moment, our final one together at the end of the wedding. We soaked it in before taking hands and walking back up the path to the two lines of family and friends assembled to see us off. The bubbles they were blowing in the air made my breath catch. They way they filled the space and gleamed in the light was more stunning than I’d imagined. Even so, there wasn’t time to fully take it in, for wedding time had resumed it's speed after our moment of reverie. The music was playing and Andy and I were dancing again, as we’d danced into our grand entrance at dinner and throughout the night. I was swinging and twirling my skirts, catching the light with the bubbles, Andy beside me and the air filled with the sounds of cheers and the ringing of cowbells which had been handed to several of the guests. It was beautiful and noisy and I like that combination. Then in a moment we were through the line and running to the open door of the limo, plunging into the dark interior, Andy landing beside me as we laughed and sighed and embraced. My dress spilled out sideways across the seat, a river of tulle. I took off my shoes. Andy and I watched the passing scenery. We turned to each other and said, “We did it!”. 

We lounged in the limo, somehow both tired and energetic at once. We kissed like crazy. We nestled together, reliving it all in our heads as we were whisked away to the honeymoon suite, on our way to so many new adventures, him and I.