Thirty-three years ago, in the early morning, my husband and I went to the justice of the peace and got married.
It’s funny that we remember the events leading up to that day quite differently. Shall I share?
I remember sitting on a bus heading to work one morning and agonizing over something that should have been insignificant. What to do about my last name? My soon-to- be husband told me, quite emphatically, that if we were going to get married that I would have to take on his last name. Uh, no. I wanted to keep my last name and hyphenate it. In the end, I simply took on his last name and have never looked back.
My husband doesn’t remember us having any discussion around the last name. Weird, no?
Another “important” decision we had to make — what to wear for this special event that was taking place in front of the justice of the peace. My husband went to Goodwill and found himself an olive colored suit that fit him great. Then we went shopping downtown for my wedding dress.
Back “in the day” I didn’t care about holidays so I didn’t realize how they impacted the culture around me. Heading into a small clothing store, I allowed my husband to pick out my dress. Â Yes ladies — I told him to pick it out. Â It didn’t seem that important and I wanted his input. And here it is …
Green and purple. Yes, the St Patrick’s day theme was flourishing at both the small clothing shop and at Goodwill. Â (laughing)
The dress had an elastic waist and elastic around the wrists. So … old fashioned and fragile, i.e.Â hand wash in cold water.
No, I don’t fit in it anymore as 110 pounds has been out of my reach for a little while now.
Looking back, it was just a dress. The color, the material — none of that mattered. The only thing that really mattered was the reason for the occasion — marrying my best friend. And yet I’ve stored it in my closet as it brings back memories of the “day.”
In this life of easy divorces, love ’em and leave ’em attitudes, I know I am blessed. May we have 33 more years of growing and learning from each other.