Happy Anniversary to Me

Eight years ago today was one of the best and worst days of my life.

Best because I married my best friend.

Worst because I allowed myself to be last on a day that I should have been first.

That is, by the way, my best advice to all brides to be: put yourself first. And not in a crazy Bridezilla kind of way. But in a “let this one day be about you” kind of day.

I have often said that I want to look back on my life and have no regrets. When it comes to my wedding day, I failed in that respect. I let my family make the day about everyone other than me. There was so much drama. I spent part of my reception crying in the bathroom and then went to bed early because I was so spent, leaving Chris to hang out with his friends at the reception.

But it was such a lovely day otherwise. And I realize that sounds completely disjointed. That’s because it is.

The day started out beautifully. It was crisp and cool out, a perfect October day in Pennsylvania. We got up and went out to an Amish farm in search of hundreds of small pumpkins for decorations. We decorated the beer hall where the reception was going to be and then got dressed and headed out to the wedding.

The wedding was in an old church in rural Pennsylvania, one with a connection to Chris’ family. It wasn’t fancy. I wore a German dirndl that I bought in Munich and Chris wore a boiled wool jacket. There were a handful of attendants. We carried handmade bouquets put together by my friends. It was simple and lovely, exactly the way that I wanted.

After the service, we had allowed the photographer one hour – just one hour – for photos. After the obligatory posed photos with the wedding party, Chris and I went outside for photos. My favorite photo was taken with the cemetery in the background and a potted plant knocked over on its side. There’s just something about that moment that captured the day; it’s the one wedding photo that we have up in our house.

The day turned chilly quickly after that and we hurried off to the reception. The reception was held in beer hall. It was campy and kitschy with a polka band and roasted pig… At the midway point, Chris’ college band took the stage to play a few songs.

It was a delightful day. But it was overshadowed at the end with family drama. I shouldn’t have allowed it to take over and I did. It was a lesson learned, albeit a painful one.

Since that day eight years ago, I’ve learned a lot about what – and who – is important to me. And for that, I am extremely grateful.

It’s weird to think that I’ve only been married for eight years – it feels longer. Not in the oh-my-god-it-feels-longer sense but in the I-feel-like-I’ve-known-Chris-forever sense. It’s a good feeling.

Happy Anniversary to Me.

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