[For Guests] Marriage Is For Old Folks
In the end, sheer determination to see this day through as it was meant to back in July does away with any of the last second, nervous jitters I felt the first time around. Which doesn't mean I don't fidget in my tux or think, for five excruciating minutes, that I've gone and lost the rings, but whatever niggling doubts there might've been looming in the back of my mind disappeared when I woke up this morning in a bed and not six feet under the ground with mere hours to live. Even having waited a month to disassociate the two events, it's hard to shake the memory, though seeing Mary Jane walk down the aisle, perfectly pristine, does work a few miracles.
She's a vision in white lace, her dress simple, but elegant and undeniably her, with a champagne colored sash tied around her waist. Her hair's been pinned loosely away from her neck, though a few red curls frame the sides of her face. I feel downright ordinary next to her -- or I would, that is, if I was thinking about myself in this moment. As it stands, my eyes and thoughts are locked on her. Distantly, I'm aware of the other people in the room, but they're indistinct, shapeless. Madrox's voice pulls me back into the real world, prompting me to say my vows, but I'm lost for a few seconds, stumbling over my first couple of words until I find my footing. I'm in my twenties, and a pretty girl still has the power to make me tongue-tied.
Not just any pretty girl, though, oh no, but Mary Jane Parker -- my wife. After all we've been through together, all the fights and near-death experiences and unfortunate circumstances, the simple fact that we made it here, of all places, in one piece is cause for celebration, and when I'm finally allowed to kiss her, I lift her straight off the ground, a relieved, giddy laugh bubbling its way out from my throat and against her lips, as I spin us around just the once.
Our happiness is a fragile thing, I know. There's still the future to worry about, with all its promise of tragedy, but if there's one thing this life has taught me, it's to live for the moment and enjoy it to the fullest. Tomorrow may be a brand new day, but today, right here, right now, we're safe and we're whole, and, most importantly, we're together.
She's a vision in white lace, her dress simple, but elegant and undeniably her, with a champagne colored sash tied around her waist. Her hair's been pinned loosely away from her neck, though a few red curls frame the sides of her face. I feel downright ordinary next to her -- or I would, that is, if I was thinking about myself in this moment. As it stands, my eyes and thoughts are locked on her. Distantly, I'm aware of the other people in the room, but they're indistinct, shapeless. Madrox's voice pulls me back into the real world, prompting me to say my vows, but I'm lost for a few seconds, stumbling over my first couple of words until I find my footing. I'm in my twenties, and a pretty girl still has the power to make me tongue-tied.
Not just any pretty girl, though, oh no, but Mary Jane Parker -- my wife. After all we've been through together, all the fights and near-death experiences and unfortunate circumstances, the simple fact that we made it here, of all places, in one piece is cause for celebration, and when I'm finally allowed to kiss her, I lift her straight off the ground, a relieved, giddy laugh bubbling its way out from my throat and against her lips, as I spin us around just the once.
Our happiness is a fragile thing, I know. There's still the future to worry about, with all its promise of tragedy, but if there's one thing this life has taught me, it's to live for the moment and enjoy it to the fullest. Tomorrow may be a brand new day, but today, right here, right now, we're safe and we're whole, and, most importantly, we're together.