Not About the Wedding

Last weekend marked our 12th wedding anniversary. I congratulated myself warmly. What a brilliant choice I made!

Before the wedding, all those who had been married long said it’s not about the wedding but about the marriage. You’re so right! I agreed. Then fainted over cake options or something similar.

They were right of course. As wonderful as it was, I barely remember our wedding day. Not to mention the cake! Perhaps it was white and made of something sweet?

This marriage on the other hand, it carries me every day. Like today when I’m ill.

There’s someone reading to the kids, who incidentally were born of this union, and he isn’t very mad. Although I’ve been dying on the sofa for three days and the poor man can’t get anywhere near it.

There is no cake anywhere in sight. If there was I would vomit on it.

And I’m telling you all the young August brides of this year, from right here from the corner of my sofa, this is what you want!

This is the true romance of marriage. This is the wedding waltz and the flowers and the blueberry-lavender champagne punch all in one. Someone who isn’t very mad when you are absolutely useless and they can’t get to the sofa.

And whom you can love back.

Happy 12th        x




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