(no subject)
Salut!
My home is a lovely three bedroom, one bath basement apartment. I don’t think I ever mentioned that before. We have a living room and a kitchen. One room is the gaming room, home to our computer, rats and TV with PS2. The master bedroom is ours. The walls need more hangings, but otherwise, it’s a warm and peaceful room.
The third bedroom is were a roommate could go, if we ever wanted one. Out of the three, it is the lightest with the most windows and a window ledge, for, whatever. Right now this last room is home only to the leftovers of the wedding. My dress is spread out like a white dream against the gray carpet. The slip fell asleep on the opposite side of the room, next to the wedding gifts we haven’t found use for yet and the box of old books I can’t bring myself to lose. Alan’s suit use to rest there too, but he’s too tidy and it found its way to the walk in closet one day. I didn’t notice till now.
I love the living room. It’s small and cozy, more like a nook than a room. We have an equally small dinning table and a couch that takes up nearly the entire back wall. It’s like my second room. I write bills there.
One our wedding night, we stayed at the Radisson hotel, formally the Grey Stone Castle. It’s still a castle and we were given the Emperor’s Room, the octagon shaped one at the very top of a tower. It had a hot tub in it.
From what I remember about my wedding day, the first half was spent in agitation. Nails, hair, makeup, these things are the small details everyone else forces upon you. Only a woman would spend most of her wedding day in the hands of strangers, strangers that groom and preen and question. The worst was the questions.
We were married at the Ranch Country Club. My family has been members forever. My bridal party got ready in the woman’s locker room. A rich club’s locker room is really a lounge in disguise. There were plush leather couches, a glass table with real inlaid gold legs, a bookshelf lined with best sellers and a grandfather clock taller than I am. Full length mirrors cover walls and there is a fridge with refreshments. Somewhere in the back, there are a few lockers, next to personal showers and dressing rooms.
My bride maids spent my entire time down there calming me down and snacking from a platter the wedding planner provided. I didn’t eat. I asked for Tums. It wasn’t nerves, my stomach just hurt. I watched myself become a bride in those walls of mirrors. I paced those lush carpeted floors anytime someone wasn’t talking to me. As it drew closer to seven thirty, I paced while they took pics. If they were talking, I didn’t hear. In my mind, I repeated lines from the Little Book of Calm as a joke. I took a Tums. It didn’t help.
All day that day, I regretted that Alan wasn’t there. The feelings crashing against me were just the kind you need your partner to steady you against. I suppose that’s the magic of a wedding. When the time finally came and I descended the staircase out to Alan, when I saw him seeing me, seeing him and we smiled, I never stopped smiling. No tears, not from me, not from him. I smiled and I laughed.
I know the minister talked because I could hear her off to the side. I know because there were things I needed to repeat. I know, but I didn’t hear. I was watching Alan and the blue of his eyes and the softness of his lips and the way his hair curls around his cheeks and the smile that has come to mean more than my own. Her words passed over me, lost to my desire to hold him and hug him. There wasn’t hesitation when she told him to kiss the bride. No embarrassment that our first husband/wife kiss would take place in front of our families. Getting to embrace and kiss him after a day of nerves and stress, loneliness and longing, that’s the magic of a wedding.
They had to jokingly tell us “That’s enough guys”.
And anyway…anyway…
He’s still sleeping in bed, after making me coffee. I’m going to go now and wake him up. There aren’t hours enough in the days.
Happy twenty one month Anniversary. Happy one month Anniversary.
I love you.
My home is a lovely three bedroom, one bath basement apartment. I don’t think I ever mentioned that before. We have a living room and a kitchen. One room is the gaming room, home to our computer, rats and TV with PS2. The master bedroom is ours. The walls need more hangings, but otherwise, it’s a warm and peaceful room.
The third bedroom is were a roommate could go, if we ever wanted one. Out of the three, it is the lightest with the most windows and a window ledge, for, whatever. Right now this last room is home only to the leftovers of the wedding. My dress is spread out like a white dream against the gray carpet. The slip fell asleep on the opposite side of the room, next to the wedding gifts we haven’t found use for yet and the box of old books I can’t bring myself to lose. Alan’s suit use to rest there too, but he’s too tidy and it found its way to the walk in closet one day. I didn’t notice till now.
I love the living room. It’s small and cozy, more like a nook than a room. We have an equally small dinning table and a couch that takes up nearly the entire back wall. It’s like my second room. I write bills there.
One our wedding night, we stayed at the Radisson hotel, formally the Grey Stone Castle. It’s still a castle and we were given the Emperor’s Room, the octagon shaped one at the very top of a tower. It had a hot tub in it.
From what I remember about my wedding day, the first half was spent in agitation. Nails, hair, makeup, these things are the small details everyone else forces upon you. Only a woman would spend most of her wedding day in the hands of strangers, strangers that groom and preen and question. The worst was the questions.
We were married at the Ranch Country Club. My family has been members forever. My bridal party got ready in the woman’s locker room. A rich club’s locker room is really a lounge in disguise. There were plush leather couches, a glass table with real inlaid gold legs, a bookshelf lined with best sellers and a grandfather clock taller than I am. Full length mirrors cover walls and there is a fridge with refreshments. Somewhere in the back, there are a few lockers, next to personal showers and dressing rooms.
My bride maids spent my entire time down there calming me down and snacking from a platter the wedding planner provided. I didn’t eat. I asked for Tums. It wasn’t nerves, my stomach just hurt. I watched myself become a bride in those walls of mirrors. I paced those lush carpeted floors anytime someone wasn’t talking to me. As it drew closer to seven thirty, I paced while they took pics. If they were talking, I didn’t hear. In my mind, I repeated lines from the Little Book of Calm as a joke. I took a Tums. It didn’t help.
All day that day, I regretted that Alan wasn’t there. The feelings crashing against me were just the kind you need your partner to steady you against. I suppose that’s the magic of a wedding. When the time finally came and I descended the staircase out to Alan, when I saw him seeing me, seeing him and we smiled, I never stopped smiling. No tears, not from me, not from him. I smiled and I laughed.
I know the minister talked because I could hear her off to the side. I know because there were things I needed to repeat. I know, but I didn’t hear. I was watching Alan and the blue of his eyes and the softness of his lips and the way his hair curls around his cheeks and the smile that has come to mean more than my own. Her words passed over me, lost to my desire to hold him and hug him. There wasn’t hesitation when she told him to kiss the bride. No embarrassment that our first husband/wife kiss would take place in front of our families. Getting to embrace and kiss him after a day of nerves and stress, loneliness and longing, that’s the magic of a wedding.
They had to jokingly tell us “That’s enough guys”.
And anyway…anyway…
He’s still sleeping in bed, after making me coffee. I’m going to go now and wake him up. There aren’t hours enough in the days.
Happy twenty one month Anniversary. Happy one month Anniversary.
I love you.