Old Photo Friday

May 20, 2000. It's funny. I never wanted a big wedding. Between us, I would've loved to marry this man on a mountain top, in a simple slip, not a soul in sight.


I didn't need a bachelorette party or champagne toasts or bouquets of freesia to commit to this man. I didn't need embossed paper or taper candles or still shots. I didn't need cake tastings, handmade favors, bustles or blocks of hotel rooms. I didn't need a disc jockey... just my guy on a mountain with a mixed tape of our songs.


The whole year before we married I tried cut people out, edit the list, make the evening smaller. Sounds awful, but I just kept thinking the more guests we invited--the more traditions we embraced--the less us it would be. And I loved us. As is.


But one thing I learned in the process is that the day wasn't just about us. Not to other people it wasn't. It was a celebration of our collective families... our friends. They were excited and wanted to be a part, so we let them in. A wedding does not a marriage make--this we knew--but garden I dos and raspberry cream cake wasn't exactly a crime either--I would realize. I insisted we keep it under 100 and handle the details ourselves.


Then I allowed my maid of honor to talk me into a veil and heals. I let my dad pay for dinner. We even stood in awkward formations for a half hour after the ceremony to cover our bases {though they aren't the shots I love today}. We allowed people to put other people on the list, even though they weren't our people by any means. We even did the garter thing {gasp} so my baby brother could dive roll to catch it for his Katie.


So maybe I never played dress-up as a little girl, pretended to marry my dad, or planned out the "perfect" wedding before there was a Mr. in the picture. But I did dream about love and friendship and passion. And I found it all in Tom. Nothing else mattered. So we had a big fat party of 110, toasted each other to tears and danced all night. And it was absolutely wonderful. Go figure.