I heard her voice at the edge of the room, we’d kept our promises to each other about today. I’m sure her maids of honor, and subsequent family were helping her preen. Her voice escaping from the other excited sounds in the room sounds happy and quiet at the same time. I’m standing here in the hallway, tux fits, shoes hurt, ready to take the biggest step of my life. She cried last night, long sad tears streaming down her cheeks. The day, now here feels less anticipation but small hurt.
We both drove in separately this morning. The church opening its doors as one accepting us as we were.
I just need to see her, though, not see, just touch her, let her know that everything is okay. Today I know she is radiant, excited, nervous, but also so beautiful.
The room she enlivens is suddenly quiet, I lean on her closed door, back against the glass. I suddenly hear and feel the knob slowly turn.
“I can’t see you” I say, the door slowly pushes towards me. My feet stepping slowly with the movement to allow the door to open. At this point it feels like we’re the only two here. The door separating our lives, but allowing us to feel together. I slowly move my left hand toward the edge of the wood slab, fingers expectant for her, any part of her. “I’m here” I think “I’ll never leave you” I whisper. My hand reaches beyond the edge of the door, turning toward her. I feel her breathe, while waiting for something. Not looking, but hoping. The tip of her finger floated passes by, searching. I open my hand, guaranteeing a life boat to reach the next time she moves toward me.
As her hand moves back up, I grab hold. We hold hands silently for an age, a time, long enough. “I love you” she says, “I need you.” “I will never leave you behind,” I say, “I love you”, listening to her breath slightly quicken.
We stand there a moment longer, staring away but standing together. My bride, my love, here with me. For as long as we both shall live.