Sunday, August 12, 2012
E is for Early
It was so early in life on that late afternoon, packed tightly into that little wood church that had the smell of heavy rains coming. Two decades of stumbling through life and into each others arms, and there we were standing at the altar. You were shaking so bad I was sure you would run and I thought "well that'll teach me."
Were we too young to know for sure?
Are we ever old enough for certainty?
Twenty years old, not even old enough to drink, though we drank and danced and laughed and pretended to be grown ups. We made speeches and vows and wrote love letters whose words I can no longer remember. Memories half-remembered in a whirlwind of white dress and pink champagne and all those familiar faces.
I remember I loved you, but I don't remember how. The sort of love that's in between being sixteen - needing to know every last thought in your head, and being here now - not needing you to say a word. It was a love that was young and confident. More passionate and foolhardy. Not yet weathered by small paychecks and parenthood.
But it was love, I remember.
I wonder what love will feel like after fifteen years, when we open that sealed box and read those young love letters we wrote before the wedding. When Lucas is a teenager and babes yet unknown may exist and we live someplace new in some life unimagined. Will we laugh or cry or remember things we'd all but forgotten?
It's still too early to know.