Ah, where was I when last I spoke of our magical wedding day?
      Mom, Mark, and I made it from the lovely suite to the venue. It is silly to say venue when in truth, it was a 30 by 20 room (if that) squished between the rental office’s garage and the laundry facilities. Still, once the ladies moved the Christmas tree out of the way and got the chairs arranged, the arbor constructed (Thanks again, Tim!), and the decor applied – the room really did look very nice.
      We knew the attendance would be dismal – it was mid-winter, it was a holiday, it was a dry party on New Year’s Eve – but the people who mattered most were able to attend. Both of our Moms, Mark’s father, his sister and her family, a pair of his aunts and a cousin’s daughter, and our good friends, the Campbells all showed up to help us celebrate.
      Now, if you recall, Mom had recovered from the crud, and I had recovered from the crud… but poor Mark was just falling victim to it. His poor little face is all florid in the photos – he was feverish and nauseated. Still, we soldiered on.
      There were hiccups with the recording/streaming device.
      There were hiccups getting the food together.
      But mostly, everything went very smoothly. Except, of course, for my poor husband-to-be and the crud. It was creeping up on him with each passing hour; he had to leave twice to heave and hurk into the toilet. We tried to hold out until midnight – but in the end, we cut a hasty retreat up the aisle, said our vows with Mark’s father as the officiate, and then bundled him into the car so I could drive him home.
      We spent our wedding night in our own apartment, in our own bed, with him running to the bathroom hourly and me trying drawing on his arms and doing all I could to make him comfortable.
      Not exactly the most romantic ending to our love story – but I suppose that is fitting after all, as it was really just the beginning…