Tuesday, July 26, 2011

A very big year.

A year and a day ago, I married my man man, my best friend, and then danced the night away.

At 3 a.m. after the last guests had boarded the school bus back to the hotel, we pulled the plug on the lights, and wandered back to our cottage to find that good friends and cousins had cleared our bed of the getting ready debris, hung papel picado through the house, and decorated the mirror.  We collapsed into bed, husband and wife.

We woke up at six a.m. and lay in bed reading the guest book note cards.  Then we left breakfast bars and juice at the tent door of our campers, and headed to the wedding tent to straighten up and gather up some flowers, before heading to the bowling alley for one last wedding hoorah.

As we about to leave the bowling alley, we got word that our family van,  Big Red, which had been incorrectly parked at the wedding and thus made it into the wedding photos, broke down.  Exploded, some say.  Eventually, another van would be borrowed and it would break down too.  Then Amy and Dad would ride home in that van on the back of a truck.    My mom fretted, and I laughed. 

Annie, Walker, and I started the longest wedding cleanup ever, while Mom spent another night at the inn with Amy who awaited Dad with the second doomed van.  Three people took down what had taken many more to put up.

At some point we realized we'd forgotten to have our officiant, Xavier, our dean from undergrad, sign the marriage certificate, and we headed to his house to remedy that.  Annie headed back to Springfield, and Mom saw off Amy and joined us in in the last of the cleanup.

When we returned to the farm, the big white tent was gone, the tables and chairs were loaded on a truck bed.  Our uhaul of plants and furniture and plates and vases and jars was packed.  The delicate items were in the car.  We were beat, and it was time to go.

First, we posed for final sentimental photos of the farm (love the timer).  When we left, I wept that our wedding was over.

Mom, Walker, and I arrived home exhausted, and basked in the air conditioning to a dinner of PB&J and potato chips, the food stash we'd bought from Aldi's as a just-in-case for our guest and campers, and beers in awesome steins (A&W 2010) from some of our favorite people in the world.

In the year that followed, we went on Amy's Make-a-Wish trip to Florida.  I started a new job.  Walker got a fellowship.  Walker started a new job.  We ran our first 5k with my sis.  We celebrated my birthday with my mom and sisters, and our most favorite Indian food from Chicago, picked up by Mom and brought downstate.  We celebrated Halloween with my sister.  We got a new niece.  We lost Biggie, my step-brother, and a week later, my amazing friend lost her brother.  We and Annie, accompanied by Mom and Amy, ran a race on Thanksgiving morning, wearing tshirts honoring Biggie and swearing we'd make running on Thanksgiving a tradition.  We spent our first Christmas with Walker's family and away from mine.  We went on our honeymoon to Trindad and Tobago.  We flew through Houston on our way home and saw four beautiful faces, two who we hadn't seen in years.   We visited Walker's grandparents in Palm Springs.  We celebrated Easter and decorated eggs as a family, for the first time in years.  We ran the Illinois marathon relay.  We lost my mom.  We celebrated my mom.  We took in my mom's dog.  We started our new life without here.  We finished grad school.  We had a Luau for Amy's 24th birthday.  We visited Tacoma, celebrated Papa, spent time with our marine, and met a new cousin with the best name ever -- Annie.  We moved Annie to Chicago to start her new job and new life.  I didn't get the job I wanted.

And, on the day before our first anniversary, we followed through on what we said we'd do to celebrate.  We competed in the Mudathlon -- 3.3 miles, 44 obstacles, and a LOT of mud.

We are still standing.  Here's to the next year and the next.


Post a Comment