In a few weeks the husband and I will celebrate another wedding anniversary. That's us on our wedding day. I think my dress is on backwards. I hear in some cultures it's a good omen if that happens.
We got married in a small garden courtyard on a day with record breaking heat. It was 200 degrees in the shade. We ignored that omen.
That guy on the right is the Minister who married us. The husband likes to say that he looked like a cross between Colonel Sanders and the Wizard of Oz. Reverend Colonel Wizard thought my oldest sister and her boyfriend were the happy couple getting married. It might have had something to do with the fact that I was pregnant and didn't look like a bride. My sister had no intentions of getting married for a few more years. She locked herself in the bathroom until the ceremony was over just to be on the safe side.
After the ceremony, we went to my other sister's house for a small reception. My mother-in-law caught the bouquet and my dad caught the garter. We made them get married on the spot. It was destiny. Not really. We dared them to. It was either that or run naked through the streets. It wasn't a hard decision. I wasn't familiar enough with the new husband's family to see any of them naked, yet. Or ever, for that matter.
We had a nice time and left for a lovely weekend stay at a hotel by the beach. It would have been perfect if I hadn't thought to use my mother's honeymoon luggage for my own honeymoon. Steamer trunks aren't very practical unless you are travelling by ship across the ocean and it's 1912. Simultaneously carrying me, and the trunk across the threshold nearly killed my new husband on the spot. His strong, young legs only gave out once as he made the 10 story climb to our room. That was my idea. Just carrying me across the threshold seemed boring. I wanted excitement. After all, it was our honeymoon. For the record, I was there every step of the way, like a good wife should be, hanging off his neck, cheering him on, and encouraging him to go faster. He swears to this day that he's a few inches shorter because of that event. I love him anyway.
We made it to our room. I told the husband that I was going to slip into something a little more comfortable. He kicked the steamer trunk into the bathroom and collapsed on the floor as I winked at him and shut the door. The latch on the trunk was open, it had been broken for years. I rubbed my hands together in anticipation of the beautiful blue negligee I planned to wear. The trunk was empty. All of my clothing had fallen out on the way to the room. I had nothing to wear except my backwards wedding dress. I opened the door and gently poked the husband with my big toe. He snored and turned over. I leaned over and shook him gently calling his name. He begged me to let him die. I laughed and told him I needed him to go back down the 10,000 flights of stairs and collect my clothing along the way. He looked at me, smiled, and said I wouldn't be needing any of it. The end.