It Feels Like We Were Just Marred

We were only a couple of hours from being married.

Seven years ago today.

That morning, there were tuxedo pants that were short enough to be considered knickers, a flower bouquet that wasn't right, and no rosebuds to dress up the cake and table centerpieces. I'm sure there were a whole mess of other problems, but I stopped paying attention.

I didn't care.

In fact, it all seemed to go by in a colorful blur. What had I been worried about all week?

And, in the evening seven years ago, me and Mr. T left for Maui via San Francisco in our silver Toyota 4-Runner with rose petals on the hood, streamers on the antenna and "Just Marred" written on the window thanks to my 10-year-old sister and her little friends. (Yes, "Just Marred.")

This morning, I rushed to feed the baby and said, "Love you," to Mr. T in a blur on our way out the door. And tonight, we will eat beef stroganoff with whole wheat egg noodles and T Junior will be cranky and get a bath before bed.

But I don't care.

It's been seven years. Today.