It’s hard to believe that there are less than six weeks left until Jessica and I are married. We had a beautiful weekend jam-packed with all sorts of good stuff; but I have to be honest. I hate this. And I love this.
I love picking out a duvet cover and sheets; I hate going to sleep at night alone. I love sitting in the food court with the woman I love; I hate that it can’t be our own living room. I love looking up at the clouds; I hate saying goodbye. I love getting married; I hate all this rigamaroll.
It really was an amazing weekend, please don’t let the sorrow of my words fool you. Not only did Jessica and I pick out 600-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, but it hailed (pictures forthcoming) stones the size of gravel. We ate her father’s amazing smoked chicken and played way too many games of Rummykub.
We met the musicians for the wedding (the Allens) and decided on the music (saw a albino deer while we were there). The bridesmaids will be marching in to Ave Maria and Jess will be coming in to our very own version of Pachobel’s Canon in D. Of course Mark Nicholson will also be singing for us and he’s also kind enough to put together a soundtrack of his song “Threefold Cord” that she and I will be singing. And to what will we march out? None other than the Hallelujah Chorus–fairly appropriate, I thought.
It’s all been wonderful, and I cannot complain for the love we share. But I feel so ready for this next stage of our relationship, and yet the wheels just keep spinning and spinning. I know, Dad, it’ll be here soon. But I’d just like to close my eyes, lay my head down and wake up July 9th. Weddings are fun, but I’m firmly convinced that marriage is better.