eight years

Eight years ago, I stood at the back of a tiny country church and fussed with my veil and tried to peer around the corner. I thought if I could see you, the knot in my stomach and all the butterflies in my tum would fly away.

I was on the wrong side of the church to peek, though. My brother must have thought that I was trying to send him a coded message, and nearly blew my cover by starting toward me. The organist caught his movement out of the corner of her eye and fumbled a few notes. When she tried to see what he was doing, most of the first few pews turned around and....well, I nearly ruined the beginning of my wedding.

(Oh, and you? Were white. And uneasy-looking. But you shot me the sweetest smile as I started up the aisle....)

Happy Anniversary, hon.

There's no one I'd rather have done this with than you.

Shall we go for another eight?