Thursday, June 3, 2010

23...22...21...

How is it that even when you want something, when you anticipate it with great joy and even the clich├ęd bated breath, how is it that it still doesn't seem real? That it perhaps seems even less real than it did a whole 6 months ago when it was finally, officially your future?

Part of my mind still refuses to accept the fact that I'll be married by the end of this month. In just 3 weeks and 2 days, to be precise. It's not that my mind somehow denies or capitulates the veracity of the statement "I'm getting married", but something about the reality of it is still larger-than-life; still too much to wrap my mind around. I don't suppose I'm waiting for a Eureka moment of feeling old enough, or grown-up enough, or some other sort of enough. I don't feel unprepared or unsure or unready for it (that may be the hubris talking...), but I do feel as if it's a surreal state of affairs. Me, I, myself, B.E.H. - no one else - I'm getting married. Tying the knot, jumping the broom, taking the plunge. More metaphors were needed for that to really pull off, but I don't have many to hand.

Yes, people my age get married. Yes, people I know and grew up with are already married. I think of Krystle and Ashley for starters; and then I remember Coco and Jeff and Jennifer and Elisabeth and Somelea and the list goes on. It's not unnatural - it's perfectly normal and commonplace in the best of ways. And I certainly wouldn't put it off - on the contrary, I'm probably indecently impatient sometimes. It means getting to see my parents and my sister; getting to wear the dress; getting to furnish and live in the new apartment; getting to spend the rest of forever with the man who has become my best friend. It - being married...getting married - means all sorts of great things. Great things that I sort of want RIGHT NOW. I can be patient, despite my apparent desire to "alter time, speed up the harvest" and so on and so forth. (There will be no teleporting off this terma firma...I'm not Luke Skywalker.)

There's just an immensity to it as well, you know? Yes; it's natural and logical and desirable to spend the rest of my life with Sebastian. To get introduced as his wife, or tell people, "oh, this is my husband." Totally doesn't seem weird. But yet, in spite of the normality of seeing each other every night, getting to live in the same house, sleep in the same bed, go for runs together in the morning, and do the shopping together on the weekends, there's still something awesome (in the real sense of the term) and incomprehensible about it. We'll be married. I love that there's something that makes it such a big deal to me; that the big deal-ness of it is so evident.

It's a covenant - a promise - a commitment. This is why I loathe self-written vows that talk about how much you love your soon-to-be spouse: we can tell how much you love him: enough to marry him. Get on with it. And a covenant is a lovely Biblical word full of the appropriate gravitas to convey a lifetime of putting the other person first; honouring, cherishing, loving, and all the rest. Am I waxing too eloquent here? I could be, but then I think calling the self-evident importance of marriage "big deal-ness" sort of cancels that out. Summary? I'm excited, and even though I still can't wrap my mind around the whole of what it means to be married, I think that's a good thing, and it ought to keep me humble enough (with only the occasional joking self-indulgent flattery that is my wont) to really appreciate both Sebastian and our marriage for quite a while. I shouldn't want to take either of them for granted.

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