We glided across the dance floor, my wedding gown swishing and his silver tie shimmering. Having just been introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Perry, we had excitedly taken the floor and now danced to “Green Eyes,” our first dance as husband and wife. The candles glowed and the lights overhead glimmered. With a twinkle in his eyes, he lifted his arm, signaling a spin. I smoothly twirled away from him, but in an instant our eyes met, and entranced I stepped back into his arms. Laughter and smiles sparkled effervescently, dancing our Rumba box step, as we floated under the twinkling lights.
Just a couple hours before I had been waiting in the foyer of our church, eager and giddy, veiled and on my father’s arm. I thought of the pure bliss in his eyes, as the doors slowly opened and I first entered the church, the organist playing my “subtly majestic” anthem. Tears twinkled and a smile spread across the face of my beloved, while he watched me slowly approach the altar – approach him.
“Slow-quick-quick, slow-quick-quick,” I heard the echoes of our dance instructor keeping tempo. Stepping to the left, breaking out of our box step into a rectangle, I began silently counting again, ensuring that I did not get lost beneath the surge of emotion, and that I was still on beat. I felt safe in his arms, like I was home in a way that I had never felt before – the beautiful mixture of familiarity and mystery, dancing in my lover’s embrace. I caught a glimpse of his hand, smiling as I saw his ring, the ring I had kept on my nightstand for months, now securely on his finger. I thought of the vows we had made to each other, surrounded by our crowd of witnesses, our dearest family and friends, “till death us do part.”
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” I had said, placing the ring on his finger. Now I saw it here, a symbol of our love, our commitment to one another on his hand. My diamonds sparkled in reply, incarnating the joy in my soul.
It had been a sunny afternoon in February when we strolled along the beach, having our parents snap pictures of us. We had made our way down a winding path, rickety wooden stairs, and to the beach. Pointing to a boulder in the surf, we climbed onto it, hand in hand, posing for another picture. That was the moment when he turned around and slowly lowered himself onto one knee. My stomach flew away instantly and I was in disbelief. I looked down at him and then glanced around, searching for answers. ‘Was this the moment?’ I wondered. ‘Is this really happening?’
Looking deeply into my eyes, he told me of his great affection and deep love for me, and asked me to marry him. Delightedly I said, “Yes, Clint!” punctuated by, “Oh my goodness!” and lifted him to his feet, as he enveloped me in his arms, kissed by my fiancé for the first time. Our families looking on, and his best friend photographing, we danced on the seashore, salt water splashing and sand in our toes, while we celebrated this moment. I had never been so happy in my life – that was until this day.
We had planned every detail of the day from the scrolling letters of the invitations’ design to the positioning of the candles for the centerpiece décor, and we had waited for this day for months with the save the date posted on my refrigerator – July 16, 2011. Now it had finally come! What a surreal moment! Here I was on my wedding day, dancing in the twilight with my dearest Clinton Allan Perry, my husband, to our song, before God and the entire world, cheerfully remembering the wonderful months behind, and dreaming of the years to come, delightedly rejoicing in newly wedded bliss, our yellow Corvette parked on the curb, waiting to whisk us away.
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