Ten years ago today, Jake and I got married.
I put on a white dress and wore a veil with a huge hole in it while, down the hall, Jake put on a tan suit and probably complained that I didn’t let him wear linen pants. I walked down the aisle to the wrong song, almost messed up a line of our vows, and taught Jake how to light the unity candle as we were lighting it.
It’s funny which details you remember most vividly isn’t it?
And then suddenly I blinked, and we were pronounced husband and wife. And as we made our way off the stage, our groomsmen marked the occasion by lighting firecrackers and throwing them in our direction.
You read that right. We literally walked into our marriage with the sound of firecrackers popping behind us.
It’s hard to forget a moment like that.
I’ve been thinking about those firecrackers a lot this week because my tendency, in writing especially, is to try to wring deep thoughts from seemingly insignificant things. I mean, after all, last year’s anniversary reflection was inspired by a lighter and a broomstick while the year before that, all my marriage thoughts stemmed from the fact that I had just read the word “teleological” in a book.
So, as I’ve been thinking and reflecting on the past 10 years of marriage, I’ve been wanting those firecrackers to transform into something. I’ve been wanting a beautiful metaphor about love and marriage to emerge because an entire decade feels like it deserves something deep and profound.
But then a thought occurred to me: What if I just let them be firecrackers?
What if this year, I don’t over analyze how hard we’ve worked at this marriage thing? What if I don’t try to oversimplify ten years of marriage? What if *gasp!* I just let the firecrackers be firecrackers?
And so, this year I don’t have any deep thoughts to share. Instead, all I really want to say is this: I felt those firecrackers a decade ago, and I still feel them today.