THE CEREMONY

We entered the church, one minister and four athletically built, tuxedo-jacket-wearing men at, or nearing, thirty. I could tell there were people in the church and smiled at our parents. The procession began. Everything started out well, and the bridesmaids made it down without any trouble. As Angie, the maid of honor, started off, the musical selection for that portion apparently ran out of time. Our guitarist had made a big deal about needing the approximate duration for each musical selection, as he was incapable of simply stopping when the time was right. (Your favorite accent can be reapplied here.) Could you stop the tide from coming in? Would you stop making love simply because the fire alarm went off? Would you start wearing pants simply because it’s cold out?

In this continued silence, the first of our two fantastic recruits came, the Ring Bear. He had a somewhat varying pace and a slightly nonlinear approach to arriving at the altar. It wasn’t the swagger of a drunken buffoon, something more like the slight missteps taken by someone in a strong wind. I personally did not detect a breeze.

“You did a great job,” I told him and patted his head.

“Do you want to play?” he asked.

“Maybe a little later. I’ve got some things to do first.”

“OK.”

You have to admire his ability to keep his priorities straight. Play first, everything else second.

Next was Daphane, our flower girl, looking lovely in her dress, with accompanying non-cleavage-enhancing locket. She was very attentive to form. She alternated hands in support and distribution, making lovely sweeping gestures out to the side and depositing rose petals off to the side of the runner, a portion of one deposit actually made it into someone’s lap. I was only able to eyeball it, but I guesstimated the foci of the petal distributions were four and one-half feet apart, or two smaller-person strides, with all deviations under six inches, perfected through nine months of practice.

The music finally returned as Christa appeared at the end of the aisle, making it a magical moment on two fronts, love and musical accompaniment. This was the first time I had seen her in her wedding dress. There was late afternoon sun coming in the west-facing doors behind her, and she was simply glowing. Remarkably, the glow didn’t leave as she came down the aisle. Her beauty in the magical mystery dress, and her excitement and anticipation created such a wonderful feeling in me. About halfway down, her emotions almost got the better of her. Her eyes got big, and her lower lip quivered a bit. The good news was: I never thought for a moment that she was suddenly overwhelmed with fear and doubt, instead of pure happiness. The even better news was that I had correctly interpreted someone else’s feelings, and we weren’t actually about to have our own Runaway Bride moment.

As we met one another at the head of the aisle, we both smiled really big and said how pretty we were and took the last couple of steps up to the altar. The music continued for another thirty seconds, as that part of the magic subsided.

We declared our intent to marry. The intent was like a checkpoint at an amusement park, where they make sure you’re tall enough and that you understand the risks and waive all potential injury claims for the ride you’re about to take. We both assented with “Yes, I will.”
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival