Three years ago today, I was having my hair done before walking down the aisle.  While my feet are always like icicles under the covers when I go to bed, I was sure that I wanted to marry my husband.  Always.  I even remember telling my mom after just a few weeks that if ever there was a man I wanted to marry, it was Greg.

I’m not really sure what gives people so-called “cold feet” when it comes to marrying the person they love.  Although the stress factor shot up exponentially when we were in that dreaded wedding planning phase, I don’t believe either of us changed.  We already lived together, so the blame game on whose shoes were left out to trip over (mine) or whose pants were always in a pile on the floor (his) was already down pat.  We knew who vacuumed (him) and who dusted (me).  He knew that every so often I just needed to cry, and he brought me ice cream to cheer me up.  I knew that every so often he just needed to be alone and tried to give him his space, hard as that sometimes was.  We both knew we wanted a dog as soon as we could get one.  For so very many reasons, I just didn’t have any doubts, and I was never worried that Greg would “leave me at the altar.”

I knew that my life was only beginning and that although my days as a single girl were going to be over, I didn’t care – in fact, I was eager to see them go!  Greg has seen me eat like a pig (reasons why no one is invited over for tacos #47), has heard me snort from laughing too hard (maybe the reason I don’t eat pork is because I’m part pig), and has seen my alien hair (the best way to enhance my natural waves).  He’s watched me stub my toes – daily – and fall to the floor, not knowing whether I’m laughing or crying and he knows I almost always burn myself at the kitchen sink.  He knows if I call him a name out of spite I don’t really mean it and that I have a hard time not taking care of him when he’s too sick to want company. 

If either one of us had gotten cold feet at that wedding, I don’t know where I’d be today.  I married my best friend.  He’s seen me at my best and my worst and still loves me whether my face is covered in chocolate, I’ve just burped like a truck driver or didn’t realize I put my underwear on backwards. 

Three years ago my feet were light, comfortable, certain and confident.  It may have been raining, but my feet were warm because they were walking towards their future to join a bigger pair of feet that were about to crush a glass to signify the end of walking through life alone. 

Happy Anniversary to my incredibly patient, supportive, romantic, witty and wonderful husband.  When I’m in your arms, it’s pretty hard to be afraid of anything.

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