Originally, i wanted to be married on my parents' farm in Kentucky surrounded by sunflowers at mid-afternoon, just before the sun begins to set and the bugs come out.
When I was asked to marry one of my exes, the dream changed to a small wedding on the Centre Seal the first week of October. We wanted to be married by one of his favorite professors (he wasn't very religious) and then run around campus taking pictures of ourselves at all the places we loved and had memories together.
Now I still have dreams of a wedding in the Fall... but I don't really care where it is or what I wear (I just want to feel pretty). I have eschewed the idea of elaborate plans, and a woman with as many law school loans as I have isn't keen on spending a lot of money on one day. I'd much rather save money on the day and plan a trip to Europe or New Zealand or some white beach with turquoise water.
All I want at my wedding is love. I want my family to be there. Whomever my husband will be, I want his family to be there. What's important about the wedding is not the flowers or the rings or the dresses or the food (well, except maybe the cake... You know me and cake).
It's the promise. It's knowing that you have found the person who will love you even when you are at your least loveable. Who will remember where you put your keys; kiss you even when you're sick and your breath tastes like it; and be more angry at you than they ever thought they could, but still hold the door, make your dinner, or toss a pillow to you when one of you is sleeping on the couch.
I know that type of promise exists. I've seen it in my parents. I see it in my dad when he surprises my mom with wildflowers or a hostess banana flip from the convenience store. I see it in my mom when she always makes sure his favorite shirts are ironed and jokes about how he has a full closet but always wears the same three.
When he watches Dancing with the Stars with her, and she constantly buys him containers and tubs to put his "papers" in and complains about the mess, but then confides in me about how lost she'd feel if she had to eat dinner without him or Bucky.
I've seen it in the hard times--when they've supported Matthew and me through countless surgeries and procedures. When he's held her when she cried for us-- when I left for college, when I moved to France, and almost every time I take a plane from KY to DC.
Through death and heart attacks and loud, cursing "discussions" and disagreements on money and time, they are always there. Their love for each other is always visible from the outside, even when they don't see it.
Why? It's the promise. It hangs in the universe above them--the gift from God that they accepted by taking each other through this life. It binds their hearts and souls in ways that in the darkest times, still shine through in the way they look at each other.
It proves that two individuals who are meant to be one can still be themselves, but come together and be a better version than apart.
The strength of their promise is what gives me faith that unconditional love between two human beings is real. That promises like theirs, when not made lightly, don't have to be broken. Rather, they can grow stronger with time and seal a bond that will last long past their earthly lifetimes.
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