Weddingbee Blog

It’s the night before, and it’s not about venues. It’s not about decor. Not about attire or flowers—no. It’s not about those things anymore. It’s about our love, my love. And, of that, I am sure.

I guess I channeled my pre-wedding anxiousness into a little poem. Because now, the event that will unfold tomorrow is a marriage, and the celebration of it. I guess that means it’s about us.

But from my perspective, it’s about him.

…This spectacular man with whom I share a home and a life and more of myself than I thought I could ever give to a person. His goodness is so encompassing that it gives me faith in other humans, even when they go out of turn at 4-way stops and ditch me in the self checkout line.

I am a complicated woman. Navigating my heart must feel, sometimes, like a labyrinth. He always finds me. He travels the crooked pathways in my soul, and he makes it look easy. He loves me the way a bird flies south- because he was meant to. Like it is in his bones, like the most basic part of him is programmed to get to me.

At least that is how it feels, tonight and every night. It feels like God all but gift-wrapped him, and maybe if I had been looking closer at the time, I would have seen a note that said: “There. Now you have everything you will need.” And perhaps, on the reverse side: “Now stop complaining, you angsty, teenage mess.”

I have spent my life immersed in words, in language, in love stories of all kinds. I could exhaust my vocabulary, I could pluck and arrange the words like Scrabble tiles, I could craft a whole new vernacular—for naught. Were it transposed into the lilting rhyme of Yeats, into Neruda’s native Spanish, into the bard’s iambic pentameter—any effort would fall short. Love bends farther than linguistics, and I stopped trying to capture my love for him on the page awhile ago. It is transcendental; it is quotidian—it is my life. I can’t quite articulate it, but I can live it, and I do. I do.

In keeping with my bee career thus far, it seems I’ve again used this space as a platform to rhapsodize about my partner. What can I say? When I get nervous, I blather. I hope you’ll accept my gratitude for you as a community, and I hope you’ll grant me forgiveness for my purple prose, as ever.

It’s hard not to limn on and on because here is the simple truth: if he is the only dream in my life that ever comes true, it will be enough to last for a lifetime. Maybe more.

Talk soon-

Miss Prairie Dog