Wednesday, September 9, 2015

honored to be yours today and always.

Four years ago a pastor dunked you under the water of my mom's pool. He declared you renewed. He then asked you to help in baptizing me, your future wife. It was four years ago today we stood in that pool and I fought tears and our families watched and photographed while we began twenty-four hours of declaring all kinds of crazy, beautiful love.

We promised ourselves to Him. Then we ate greasy bread sticks, sipped on cool beers, and you even let me cry a little, sentimental cry under the beautiful lights strung outside my parents' house. We were to be married in twenty-four hours.

That day, September 10, 2011, went by in a blur of laughing and crying and joy and love. It was madness from the morning run I shared with my mom, to your puke on Bub's shoes outside El Torito, to stumbling over vows that I wrote for you. It was joy from the moment I hopped out of the shower to get my hair done to pinning my grandma's buttons on my bouquet to my mama's wedding pearls around my neck to the moment my parents and I walked off the step of their front stoop. It was laughing and crying, joy and love.

I remember little from our wedding night -patchy bits of memory pieced together by the pictures. But I do remember this: we spent as much of the night as we could on the dance floor. It seems appropriate, an homage to that night in that bar when you danced by and I happened (by luck) to catch your baby blue eyes. I felt like our wedding night was disappearing into thin air, and it was, but that's life.

Now, four years later, I see we never stepped off that dance floor. We, in fact, turned our lives into a constant give-and-take, follow then lead, fast song then slow. We've orchestrated beautiful music and established a grand, polished oak floor that has room for many. The friends come and go, dancing a few songs here and there. The family a staple out there, always in the periphery with blurry smiles and bright eyes. And then there's you, my dance partner for always, the leader when I'm not able, the most proficient of twirlers and dippers in the land.

No one could put up with my bumbling feet like you. And for that, I'm always thankful and willing to spin a few more times. May we dance from here into tomorrow, teaching future generations about the joy of a tune and the importance of a jolly jive.
Happy anniversary of Amber and Jason Thomas Day. 
May we dance hands grasping, hearts bursting, and eyes locked until forever comes. 
Honored to be yours today and always,

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