Seven Years Ago 8/30/2020

By: Jennifer Richardson Holt

The day that this post publishes shall be a date forever ingrained in my memory. On this day in 2013 I got married. So yes, today is my anniversary and yes I am going to write about it.  Don’t panic though. My goal is not to make this a gushing testament to love, romance, butterflies and roses but instead to just tell you a bit about that day years ago in its interesting tidbits as well as its beautiful details.  There is quite the story to the goings on of the events of that day and hopefully you, if nothing else, can appreciate the tale.  Hopefully, I can express this various and sundry narrative in a way that makes you reminisce of some special day of your own or at the very least keeps you entertained.  It was an interesting day with a bit of all available adjectives gaining appropriate use.  The gamut was run. The aisle was walked.  It was quite the day.

I will start with the night before the wedding. I got married in a beautiful little locale on a lovely lake in Alabama. My husband is part fish (disclaimer: I am not, in fact, married to an actual merman) and therefore water had to be part of the setting for our nuptials.  Being true southerners, (and probably bigger than we should be fans) we had to be sure our event did not interfere with football season so we got married on the Friday evening before the first game.  Right beside our little venue was a cabin where I stayed the night before the wedding with my friend the photographer and one of my bridesmaids. Now, in I suppose very “me” fashion, this was a historical cabin and its décor was a bit of a time capsule to mid-century. (No, not my favorite era in the least but that’s not the point).  Apparently, this cabin is where Hank Williams wrote a few of his well-known songs. Now, please don’t revoke my southerner card but, Hank and I…well we aren’t particularly close. I think he tells a good story in his lyrics but his voice does about as much for me as if I were listening to turnips grow, in other words, not a cotton-picking thing.  But I, being the history lover that I am, felt this cabin did add a certain nod to the past that I could appreciate. Not to mention it was adorable and convenient to all the goings on so there we stayed.  I went to bed that night nervous, excited and very chilly since the air conditioning in this place was abnormally effective.  We all know August in Alabama is nothing short of hot, humid misery however, inside this cabin there very well could have been icicles. I got out two extra blankets to throw on my bed.  I fell asleep bundled up pondering marriage and the ghosts of country music past.

When I awoke in the pre-dawn hours to uncomfortably warm temperatures and the smell of electrical fire I knew that my wedding day activities may have just taken a bit of a turn.  Upon further inspection, the air conditioning unit was in a very deceased way and filling the place with the fragrance of burned wires and dread.  It’s late August. We’re supposed to get ready for a wedding here.  The levels of panic were, I would say, quite close to hysterical as I stood outside the cabin in my pajamas watching the sun rise and trying to figure out what in blue tarnation I was going to do. I did what any self-respecting girl would do, I called my mama.  She comforted and calmed me as mothers do so well.  And eventually, the air conditioning got fixed.  True, it was after we had already dressed for the ceremony.  It was also after I learned that trying to put on a wedding dress in August in Alabama in the late afternoon without air conditioning may very well be some form of torture. I liken it to taking a very hot shower and getting dressed in very heavy, bulky clothes without drying off, and also there is a running heater.  That about sums it up.

Despite that questionable start to the day, the ceremony turned out rather beautifully.  Everything went off without a hitch.  Well, I suppose there was the one main hitch that was the point of it all but I digress.  I even had guests ask how we arranged it for the evening sun to beam down the aisle of the chapel right at the moment I came down it.  Apparently, they gave me more credit for attention to detail than I could begin to fathom.  That was just a happy coincidence. I won’t go so far as to call it divine intervention but I won’t go so far as to say it wasn’t either.

Our reception was lovely as well with delicious food and a unique punch that every guest raved about that I got my one, arm entwined photographic sip of and it was no more.  Good ole punch, you really were a hit though I never got to know ye.  There was a glorious wedding cake that a ended up with a thrillingly large amount leftover that got to come home with me. This made for many happy desserts post wedding.  My husband’s groom’s cake was made by his grandmother and was an orange velvet. In case you are wondering, this is exactly the same as a red velvet (his great grandmother’s recipe) but with different food coloring. And it was orange, prepare yourself, for football allegiance reasons.  The flavor was still as intoxicatingly good but now no one would mistake us for fans of any “other” teams.  Yes, I do realize how ridiculous that sounds and no, I am not particularly upset about it.

Our plan was to ride off in my husband’s boat after the reception.  The dark clouds that began to gather decided said plans were irrational. As lightning and thunder mingled with the bouquet and garter tosses we decided a bit of a boat photo op was about as much as we dared attempt.  The night ended with torrential rain.  I have since learned its apparently good luck for it to rain on your wedding day. Good to know.

So, you’ve had a much abbreviated rendition of my wedding day.  That roller coaster of a day was pretty exemplary of marriage itself I suppose.  There are going to be thunderstorms on occasion that will make you question the wisdom of any and every decision you’ve ever made. There will be delicious moments of sharing cake and laughing with friends.  There will be the best laid plans that will go up in disappointment and electrical smoke.  But I suppose the most important thing is, despite the storm and heat and everything, if you can hold on through it all, the next morning the sun rises golden on the water.  For those magical moments everything glows in an other-worldly, almost angelic haze and all is right with the world.  It won’t happen every morning, but the ones it does will make it worth it.