September 08, 2008
Filed Under (Good Times) by svana

After 12 years, our house is still under construction. It never really ends, it just seems to get bigger and more involved. I thought if we broke it down into smaller chunks it would be easier to meet some fairly significant goals over the fall months. Personally, I believe that a bundle of dynamite in the basement would make me happiest because this house has a hate-on for me.

This past weekend, I thought we’d start in the front entrance. Last winter, we made the entry into a breeze way…and let me tell you, the house fought us tooth and nail. Who’d have thought adding one blessed door could be a 12 hour prospect, but that’s a story for another day.

We moved from my apartment into the house while it was under construction, believing that despite having a wedding on the horizon, we could get it done…after all we were in no great rush. We combined our homes and lives in a great chaotic mish-mash, which has worked out quite well…until I get a bug up my butt about getting things done. My husband (then fiance) and I discovered fundamental differences between us when it came to how we approach things. They say if you want your marriage to last, never…and I do mean never hang wallpaper together. We challenged our relationship by renovating a house. Again, that is another story for another day.

Yesterday was all about the front entry. A small breeze way with a closet stuffed with boxes of books, audio tapes, and various treasures. No treasure was more precious than the long, heavy, white plastic garment bag that I pulled from the farthest reaches of the closet. I had unearthed my wedding dress. The last time I looked at it was almost 10 years ago.

It is remarkable how sharp the emotions still are from that day…our wedding day. Seeing my wedding dress brought tears to my eyes. I was not a conventional bride…I really wasn’t interested in wearing a traditional, serious, “Wedding Gown”…it’s just not who I see myself as. However…my then fiance… asked if I would indulge him and at least try one or two dresses on. Since I couldn’t (and still can’t) resist his sincere, pleading brown eyes…we went out to look at dresses.

As I said, I am not conventional…and the poor ladies at the dress shop had varying degrees of fits over the fact that the groom was looking at dresses with the bride. However, they could not argue my reasoning that this was going to be his day too. So, the lovely and patient Rita carted dresses that weighed more than her to the change room for me to struggle in and out of. I tried on 17 dresses…and narrowed it down to three…but one in particular made his eyes glow. I knew we had a winner not only by the look on his face, but by how that made me feel. I had that floaty, “wow…I feel beautiful”, feeling by looking into my soon-to-be husbands eyes. This was it for me…even before I really looked in the mirror. The dress was not something I would have picked out for myself…Thank you Rita!…but I knew it was the only one I could choose.

Countless fittings and the final pick up of the dress had not prepared me for the day itself. I remember putting on my dress feeling calm while my attendants were rushing about and fiddling with last minute problems. I was calm as we arrived to the hall where the wedding was taking place, but not calm as we were travelling there. The butterflies were ready to bust loose…I felt like I would faint, but then sternly told myself that fainting was not an option, and it passed.

When my father took my arm, to walk me to my very-soon-to-be spouse, I looked up. I saw him standing there; handsome, proud, loving…and that same darn look from the dress shop. I took a quick breath in, and looked at the floor just ahead of me. I knew if I looked at him the whole way I would cry because of that look. When my father gave him my hand, I knew that this was exactly where I needed and wanted to be. The vows, the pictures and the reception were a blur…but weight of his look has stayed with me. At my absolute worst, my husband still looks at me with that look.

So yesterday, feeling the tears well up in my eyes as I unwrapped my wedding dress, almost 10 years later…10 years in which we have put our vows to the test, where life has put them to the test over and over again. We have made it. While my husband was bustling around the kitchen and I was having my trip down memory lane, he looked into the living room…and damn if he didn’t give me that look again.


One Response to “Cleaning out the closet…”

  1. Da Hubban Says:

    Bad Angels! Bad Angels! Those last two paragraphs brought tears to my eyes.

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