Whenever I hear brides talk about their wedding day, the word "perfect" always seems to pop up. My wedding day was not perfect. Things did not go smoothly. For starters, I woke up that morning so anxious for everything to be "perfect" that I was sick. Really sick. So sick, in fact, that for a while I did not think that I was going to be able to make it down the aisle. The feeling horrible put me ever so slightly behind and I rushed through the morning trying to catch up. The church was locked when we arrived, the flowers were late, my grandmother's corsage was missing, as were all of the mizuhiki knots I'd handmade for the ushers and readers. The bridesmaids walked down the aisle to the wrong music and some random guy in running shorts practically walked on my train as he followed me and Papa Belle into the church for our grand entrance.
When those doors opened, though, and I saw The Boy standing at the altar, everything just... got better. I wasn't nervous. I didn't feel bad. I wasn't even tired. In fact, I felt perfectly ready to be standing there making those vows. Nothing else mattered. All of those little things that I'd worked so hard on, that had occupied so much of my time - they were nice and all, but they were just details. The important thing was that I was marrying - finally and again - my best friend and, without a doubt, the love of my life. So, so what if it wasn't perfect? It was still the most amazing and beautiful day of my life. So far, that is.
- Origianlly posted on A Belle Abroad
May 29, 2008
