Wedding White

I love weddings, other people's weddings. There is no stress. I dress up and just make sure we're at the church before the bride. Other than that finer detail, I get to enjoy the occasion, not caring if the flowers are just right, if the pianist is on time or if Uncle Jimmy is going to be scandalous or not. I don't have to visit with every table at the reception, smile until I can't smile anymore or eat my dinner with everyone else's eyes on me.

Rather, I get to sit close to M, hold his hand and get gushy and mushy that it's all worth it: those married moments of cuddly closeness and the irritable ones laced with high frustration. I sometimes think it's not always the big issues that break marriages but the daily wear and tear of doing life together. Like leaving bread crumbs on the kitchen counter, one small idiosyncrasy I have that irritates M. In my defence, I must say that the mottled brown and black of our kitchen counter is a great camouflage for crumbs.

But at weddings, in the romance of the moment, we forget these small indiscretions and irritations of life together. The happiness of the bridal pair takes us back fifteen years to our happy day and what is good about being married. With nostalgia we remember we did say "for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health" and now we'd add "for bread crumbs on the counter or leaving the toilet seat cover up, for grumpy moods and calling a bread board 'a plank', in the heat of the argument or the snoring on your back" I thee do wed!