Any time I attend a wedding it transports me back to the day I got married. The flowers, the dress, everyone who loved us all in one place, our moms lighting two candles that we would unite into one, the way one rivulet of sweat ran down my husband’s face (all these years later I still don’t know if it was nerves or the Indian Summer temperature), the vows to love and honor and cherish and to change . . .
WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!!! WHAT?!?!?!
The optic nerves don’t work too well but the ears do. I heard correctly and later learned that these days the promise to change has been added to the traditional ones. Upon hearing this my first thought was: This is great! This younger generation has evolved beyond mine and has decided to do something to strike preemptively against the inevitable change of one spouse and not the other. Good for them!
I’d like to say that these positive emotions lasted through the exchanging of the rings, first married kiss and presentation of the new Mr. and Mrs. but who would I be kidding? It didn’t last past my thoughts documented above. The old married cynic in me snickered to myself, or at least I thought I had kept it inside until I noticed a few heads turn in my direction. I immediately attempted to cover it with a cough and realized that the females over 35 had caught what I had, including the bride and groom’s mothers. I thought for sure we would all be spending the honeymoon with the newlyweds in Quarantine in the church.
Several days later I can honestly say I hope the Cough Choir is proven wrong. We want the people who come after to I Do better than we did. First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes baby steps. No carriage required.
