Some days I yearn to be a poet, the sort of person who can take any mundane occurance and transform it into a symphony of adverbs and prepositions. I am no such person.
The sky opened up on my wedding day and poured, as I knew for weeks it would.
It. Was. Perfect.
Our bliss is only enhanced when I tell you about the sheer agony we both felt at having let our parents down. We didn't do the fairy tale wedding, we didn't invite all of our relatives and acquaintances. We simply surrounded ourselves with love and rain and let it all happen.
Everything that could've gone wrong, did. His parents and best man had their flight cancelled. I was two hours late. We forgot the kiddush cup. The announcements. The garter. Thirty unexpected guests came to watch. I didn't even have time to shave and Steven had to take a Xanax to survive. My mother's love spilled tears from my eyes, lack of tissue notwithstanding. And yet... It was perfect.
I am told it was beautiful to behold, the mist rising over the chuppah, drops of rain covering everything like lace. The vows read from hundreds of miles away in the magic only an ancient language provides. Truly, my heart is bursting with the beauty and color and most of all, the joy of unconditional love.
So thank you. Thank you for witnessing what I honestly describe as the most beautiful moment in my life thusfar. Thank you for supporting us, for helping us, for taking our pictures and pronouncing our ceremony and preparing our food and for keeping us sane, for wishing us luck, for eating our cake, for mending the hurt, for spreading the joy, for being the best family we could ever want. God, I can't thank all of you enough.
And you know, it was a total success. The bride and groom came out married!