I am looking closely at the photos that hang on our living room wall, of my husband and I taken at our civil celebrant wedding. These photographs depicting a young couple, nervous but very much in love, force me to fondly reminisce that occasion, when we declared to the world our commitment to each other.
About a week after the engagement, I was looking online at ridiculously expensive wedding dresses, and reading a few blogs about weddings, when I realized to my horror that my fiancé Mike and I weren’t at all religious. We didn’t belong to any church, and to get married in one was quite silly. I immediately feared that I wouldn’t be able to have the beautiful and simple wedding of my dreams.
Almost in hysterics, I sent a text to Mike, who was at work. We can’t get married at all; we’re just going to have to be one of those couples that goes to city hall to say our vows–do you even say vows in a non-religious ceremony?–dressed in jeans and tee-shirts and sneakers.
This is not at all what I imagined I would have when I used to dream about my wedding. I didn’t want some big, extravagant event with 100 plus guests, or the overly made-up church and all of that. I wanted something small, very small. I get shy in front of too many people, and I didn’t want something expensive.
Really, it had always just been about the beautiful commitment of intense and undying love between two people, to me. But I didn’t want it to be some terrifyingly casual event at city hall. My husband texted back quickly, well-aware of my paranoid tendencies, and said he had assumed we would have a civil wedding ceremony.
I hadn’t really thought of that for some reason and began Googling for more information on a civil celebrant wedding. I was very pleased with my search results. I commenced daydreaming again, but this time we weren’t in a quaint church or any building at all; we were in a small park, the small ceremony taking place under a giant old willow tree. The ceremony was at sunrise, the sky swashed with gorgeous reds and pastels merging, commingling. I immediately grabbed my notebook and a pen and began sketching and planning everything out.
Three weeks later, the sketches came to life. I was in a white gown decorated with large, vibrant blue flowers. I had a matching blue flower in my hair, and Mike had one pinned to his white button-up shirt. We were dressed in formal but comfortable clothing, and we were so happy with the turnout of the civil ceremony aesthetically; the revenue was stunning. It was late summer, the grass a brilliant green, the fancy pavilion a stunning, almost glowing shade of white. It was just Mike, me, our marriage celebrant Timothy, and our witness/photographer and my best friend Theresa.
The affair was small, short, simple, and very memorable. It was even more lovely than I had hoped it to be. The marriage vows took less than five minutes to complete. I don’t even remember a word of what Timothy said; I only remember looking at Mike, whose eyes were cloudy with potential tears, and thinking about how incredibly lucky I am to be marrying a sweet and caring man who loves me as much as I love him.
Since my performance was rather silly and candid, I don’t remember my own vows, but I remember Michael’s.
“Today, in this park, I give myself to you.
I, Michael, take you, Marlena, to forever be My Sweetheart.
I pledge even to share my video games with you.
I value your superior taste in partners, and your whimsical sense of humor as amazing gifts.
I will respect and cherish every inch of you, even your feet, always.
With every beat of “It Takes Two,” I will love you.
Take this as a sign of my undying love and commitment,
from this day forward, for as long as we both shall live.”
When he called me “his sweetheart,” the first tear slipped from my eye. It has always been his pet name for me, ever since our second date.
After the vows, Timothy said something I can’t remember, and then Michael came close to kiss me. It was my first kiss as a married woman, and the moment our lips touched the rest of the world faded away. I was no longer in the park, in front of a shuttering camera and two people with enthusiastic smiles on their faces and genuine happiness in their eyes, watching me kiss my love; I was in Michael’s arms, only. When the kiss finally concluded, I saw the tears in Michael’s eyes and realized I was tearing too. I have never been so happy in my entire life.
I awaken from my reverie to Michael standing behind me, wrapping his arms around me, smiling at the photo. “Hello, My Sweetheart,” he whispers sweetly into my ear. “Hello, My Darling,” I whisper back. Indeed, I have never before been happier than I am in this moment.
