We are getting married on the tenth day of the tenth month, in front of about ten people. And, even when it fells like making sense of a Covid wedding is untenable, I choose to focus on the marriage because a marriage is forever.
In theme with ten I started thinking about a marriage ten commandments. Now, turns out everyone and their mother has also had this idea. I found a lot of online-suggestions for marriage commandments, read articles by seasoned-pros and marriage veterans. I don't know much about what marriage will be, a simple neophyte, but I know who we are. And I know how far we will go to love each other. And so, I am writing the Ten Commandments, for our marriage. Fully understanding that, someday, I may look back at this and feel embarrassingly naive. But this is how it feels today (and I'm going with it).
I will love you.
I will assume the best and speak well of you.
I will always make time for the two of us.
I will always root for you and move mountains to support you.
I will be gentle and listen.
I will let you win and be a person of integrity.
I will always make time for dancing in the kitchen.
I will be honest and be willing to laugh at myself.
I will always help you and let you help me.
And, this one I've stolen from my vows, I will not only return these feelings of safety and comfort and love but also accept and acknowledge every effort that you make to create comfort and safety for me.
When they ask about the month before our wedding, I will tell them of hiking until our shoes turn brown (and soles flap off), of turning into a Masters Widow before our wedding, of sparkly, silver, I do shoes and wooden cake toppers who look like us. Of a lacy white dress and a navy vest that fits just so. Of wedding bands and writing vows; of calligraphy and sparklers and printed versions of programs and menus that we have been tinkering with for the better part of a year. Of cinnamon and pouring love stories onto postcards. Of Father of the Bride and My Best Friend's Wedding. Of baking cakes and counting down. Of surprise wedding gifts and sunflowers. When everything else has faded away, I'll still remember the way you scrunch your nose when I talk too much, how infectious your laugh is, and how, when the countdown added up to less than our four hands, your eyes looked like the North Star.