A thin slice of perfection

The day was clear, crisp, and vivid, giving the appearance of having been freshly scrubbed. The air was brisk and cool, trees shuddering mildly in the mid-morning breeze. It was beautiful.

I awoke with a stomach ache. The hotel phone rang, ending whatever dreams I was having for a robotic wake-up call. I sat up, feeling the tension in my gut. I was nervous.

I showered, carefully and slowly, trying not to dwell on what could happen that day, or even what would. As we loaded my Maid of Honor's car with item after necessary item I told myself, "breathe it in. Breathe in the beauty of this day." I felt as though I were floating, somewhere outside myself and looking down on the scene before me. Could it be possible that nothing was going wrong?

As the makeup artist was finishing with my makeup, I started to feel emotional. In response, my bridesmaids, relatives and closest friends that they are, began to sing and dance. I should thank them, and Rhianna, for the un-smudged eyeliner I enjoyed that day.

When it was finally time to put on the dress, I was elated, nervous, and just not feeling myself. I walked up to see my groom, and my breath came in short, choppy spurts of excitement. I saw his back, the line of his shoulders in the black tuxedo, and my breath caught in my throat. I held back tears as I walked toward him. We were nervous with each other, as though it was our first date as bride and groom, and neither of us knew what to say. We giggled and held hands and just the touch of him anchored me. I felt whole again. We loosened up in front of the camera, and we were suddenly there, in the moment. Our wedding day. And we loved every minute of it.

The smile that nearly never left my face was not plastered on by the protestations of others, it was genuine. This was our day. We were surrounded by people who love and support us, and we had not a doubt between us that what we were doing was anything but right.

Throughout the day, my emotions swelled and calmed like a mild ocean tide; momentum would build, feelings would intensify, and then flatten, but with the promise of return. The sun shone fiercely through the cool fall air. Leaves rusted, trees swayed, butterflies played in patches of sun-dappled branches. My husband looked at me, his smile laden with nerves and joy, and my heart melted. My dress swished pleasantly around me, my nose filled with the aroma of rose-scented geraniums. The hand that held mine, now adorned with a heavy band of metal, squeezed mine three times, our secret message to one another, I love you. It gave me strength, joy, and peace of mind. It reminded me why the trials were worth it, why we had pushed so hard to make our relationship work, to make it great, why we had put so much time into preparing this day until every tiny detail spoke the language of our hearts. It reminded me of the power of good, the joy of family, the mystery of love. It gave me hope and the promise of wonderful days ahead. It reassured me that every trial would be met with the tried-and-true team we have become, and that nothing would conquer us.

Perhaps it is for these reasons that my smile seems different somehow. Life, in all of its unpredictable and often mundane glory seems a little sweeter. My course in it seems a little more true. There are heavens on this Earth, and we will find them. But we already have the greatest of all, which is love.