Back to You(32)
Just as I’m about to check my watch again, the tiny four piece acoustic band—that I hired at the last minute—starts up. That’s her cue. I see her emerge from behind the sand dunes and my breath catches.
The song of choice for my gorgeous wife is a subdued version of Bittersweet Symphony. I remember her telling me she always wanted to walk down the aisle to this and I’m happy to oblige because her wish is my command. When she passes the band, she points to them with her thumb and then winks at me. She approves… I knew she would. As she makes her way closer to me, I see the tears in her eyes. Absolutely stunning. There’s no other way to describe the way she looks in that dress with her hair pulled over to one side, making her look like a runway model. She clutches a small bouquet of daisies with ribbons hanging from the bottom. I notice something attached to each ribbon but she’s still too far to make it out.
I swipe at my own tears—yes I’m emotional as all hell. The way she looks, the music, the atmosphere, the reason we’re here. It’s a lot to take in all at once and I want to freeze this moment in time and remember it forever.
Finally at my side, I lean over, kiss her on the cheek and whisper in her ear, “You are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”
She tilts her head and smiles, “Thank you. You look incredible too.”
The minister interrupts our private moment and takes each of our hands in his. “Mia, Declan, are you ready to become husband and wife, again?”
We look deep into each other’s eyes—so familiar and welcoming. There’s no doubt in my mind that when I look into her eyes fifty years from now I’ll feel the same insane need to kiss her as I do right now. “Yes,” we both say in unison.
Throughout the ceremony the minister mentions our children and some funny stories I shared with him during our phone conversation. We laugh together, remembering all the things that make us who we are today. Sure, all those good memories are mixed with some bad, but each and every one of them helped make us the couple we are today. They molded us into better people, in fact. We can now recognize our flaws and move past them.
When it comes time to say our vows to each other, the minister prompts Mia to go first. I quickly clear my throat to stop him. “Would you mind if I went first, actually?”
I look to Mia, who looks like a deer in headlights. “You wrote your own? Dec. I didn’t—I thought—”
“It doesn’t matter, baby,” I say, coaxing her. “Please just let me share this with you?”
She nods, sniffling back the tears that flow down her flawless face.
“Don’t cry,” I say, lifting my hand up to her face to wipe away her tears. “You’ll mess up your makeup.”
“Does it matter?” she asks, with a little laugh.
“Of course not, but—no crying. This is a happy day.”
“The happiest day,” she says.
Taking her bouquet from her, I recognize what the tiny objects attached to the ribbons are—guitar picks. I lift one up in her direction with a questioning glance, “What are these?”
“Little pieces of you. My something old… and kind of my something borrowed, too. I stashed them in the luggage because I was hoping you’d find a guitar somewhere to play while we were on the beach. When you planned this—which is way better, by the way—I figured I’d add them into the mix for good measure. I hope you don’t think it’s weird or tacky?” Her face contorts into an anxious smirk.
“They’re perfect. So us. I love that you thought to have them with us today.” I palm a handful of the picks and admire them—they bring back so many good memories—before handing the flowers over to the minister.
“So, can I say what I want to say now?” I ask, holding her hands in mine.
Mia nods with a smile, the teardrops falling from her beautiful brown eyes.
I imagine it’s just me, my wife and the tumbling of the ocean waves to witness what I have to say. Even the faint melody of the quartet playing behind us does nothing to distract me from my bride. I take a deep breath, not having to look down at the paper where I scribbled down some notes, because these words come from my heart and those are the easiest to speak. “When I saw you that very first day I knew I had to have you, and not in the way that a horny teenage boy drools over a girl—there was something about you; an effortless grace, the way you flipped your hair when you laughed, not even getting how gorgeous you were just standing there. It took me longer than it should have to get up the nerve to ask you out, but my procrastination—or maybe just the way fate timed it—showed me that every single moment in time from that first sighting on campus to standing here right now, was meant to happen exactly the way it did.