It's not going to be the way you planned it. And, these days, being such a proactive planner might be one of your worst qualities. So far, count it, there have been four different venues, six different guest lists, four devastating conversations, and infinite moments that make you cock your head to the side and shout REALLY?!? at the heavens.
And, although this has been the ultimate exercise in planning and letting go, it has also been an exploration of mindfulness. Because, through it all, I can sit on the couch, with a cup of tea, next to my guy and know, without any doubt, that he's it.
At this point, you were supposed to be coasting: the dress had been picked (scheduled for pick-up early June), the flowers double and triple checked; you would have already finalized the menu, selected the cake, ordered all of your welcome basket tchotckes. You would have sent out your bachelor and bachelorette party invitations and bought all of your accessories. None of those things really matter now.
Instead, the perfect shoes are in the drawer, the wooden signs hide behind your bedroom door. The countdown that had been curated for the fridge (24 Mondays until we're married...) has been traded for a grocery list. The packages are delayed.
But you spend your days with music and puzzles and games of gin. You bake and cook and dance in the living room. You facetime your friends and make queso for cinco de mayo. You watch live concerts from your bath tub, do burpees on the floor, and cuddle whenever you want.
It's not going to be the way you planned it. And sometimes the silly injustices of missing out on these onlies (your only wedding, your only bachelorette party, your only bridesmaids) turns your ribcage heavy. But, other times, you remember it's only a day. Compared to a life. Compared to a year. Compared to everything else.
So you reach out your hand and he leans over to kiss you. And, even though it's not going to be the way you planned it...it's perfect.
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