8 years ago, June 8th was not a Monday. It was Friday.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t raining. Though the papers had predicted a wet, gloomy week, especially for Friday. (This was back when the Detroit Free Press delivered a paper to my doorstep every day.)
It was a beautiful day with blue skies and puffy white clouds. Seventy-something degrees.
Which was good because somebody had planned an outdoor wedding reception.
8 years ago, Hubby and I gathered maybe 40 of our closest friends and family and did “something rather rash” –in the words of our favorite history teacher whose class we had once before and once after the wedding. We’d only been dating for three years, after all. 😉
8 years ago I married the first and only man I dated. We got our flowers– a pair of bouquets and a couple of baskets– at the local Shady Stop. We got our scrumptious cake from the South Lyon Bakery. And we were wed at the same church we both attended as a child, a local place that was better when it was smaller.
Then, we did as many cash strapped honeymooners in Michigan do… we fled to another country. Heh. Okay, so it’s Canada and hardly counts as a different country. But we did go to Niagara Falls on what was our VERY FIRST vacation without mommy and daddy. (Sharp learning curve on that one.)
8 years later we have a house. And the same disagreements we’ve always had. (Gee, there’s a surprise.) But we also have resolve. And we still love each other. Which is good, because I meant what I said about that “Death do us part” bit… =)
8 years down. And many more to go. I’m looking forward to it.
