Tomorrow, Brian and I celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary, because we apparently got married in utero. If you want to read about how we met, see yesterday’s post.
We picked the date because it had been my grandparents’ anniversary. That, and it was over Labor Day weekend, leaving lots of time for out-of-town guests to hang out with us. September 2, 2000 dawned slightly gray and a little bit rainy, but I didn’t have time for that. My cousin and maid of honor and I hopped into the car and split to go pick up the other 3 bridesmaids and get to the hair salon.
Of course, between my friend’s house and the hotel where the last 2 members of our party were staying, the car began to billow out smoke. We hopped out of the car, convinced it was about to blow. Then we remembered Tiffany’s dress was in the car and decided we’d all go in together to get it (all for one and one for all and all that.) Dad swung by with the other car (turns out the van was very low on oil, hence the smoke) and we raced across town and back to get the girls and get prettified.
By the time we got back to the house, all 5 flower girls were there, in their matching dresses, eating lunch. One of my favorite pictures is of them sitting at the kitchen island wearing my dad’s old shirts backwards like smocks so they didn’t spill on their dresses. Theoretically, I ate something before putting my dress on.
And the dress! I knew exactly what I wanted when I went shopping for it. A short-sleeved, Basque-waisted dress with a sweetheart neckline and absolutely NO TULLE. So of course, I got a long (lace) sleeved dress with a tulle ballgown skirt. Naturally. But it was covered in embroidered daisies and I was a little, ahem, obsessed with daisies at the time.
We took pictures outside and inside then got ready to get into the limo. That’s when the skies opened up. It rained so hard I’m pretty sure I saw Noah paddle by in his ark! We got to the church with hairdos intact and waited (and waited and waited) for the big moment.
I remember walking down the steps into the vestibule of the church. I remember looking at my dad, watching him pull the veil over my face. I remember my high school drama teacher arriving seconds before I walked down the aisle. And I remember not being able to see any of the faces in the full church because of the tears pouring down my face, effectively removing any makeup I may have been wearing up to that point.
I also remember seeing Brian standing there at the altar, looking like he might just puke from nerves or float away from happiness (it was a toss-up, really.) And I remember knowing that I had made the right choice.
To be continued…
