up, up and away

Twenty-three years ago today, at sunrise, we stood on a bluff outside of Bethel, Maine, watching a black balloon wobble as it ascended, disappointment in the air. The wobble meant that there would be no hot air balloon launch that cold Saturday morning: the air was not still enough. It was the day before the beginning of the annual (at the time) balloon festival, and our first visit to the mountains of Maine. Tired (we had driven through a sleet and ice storm 5 hours the night before) and a little crestfallen, we climbed back in the truck, and headed back to the Sunday River Resort. The plan had been to fly, then ski, so we simply reversed the day.

Over the next 4 hours or so, we tried every trail and lift we could, taking in the breathtaking views, shushing down the well-groomed trails. From time to time we raced each other. On the long, wide, easy trail, we talked as we skied side by side, marvelling at the quiet the blanket of fresh snow provided. In talking to another skier--one who clearly had more experience than we did--we found out that the slopes were lightly attended that day, because the powdery new snow was too "Rocky Mountain" for the regulars, who preferred the icier, faster snow that usually fell in these east coast mountains. Truthfully, we were grateful for the relative solitude: this trip was my birthday gift from Guy and a friend of ours--the balloon pilot. He was hoping we would help him at Festivals, and said we should know what a flight feels like first.

Little did I know, everyone had ulterior motives on this trip....

Mid-afternoon found us getting changed and slurping down some soup before loading back up for another attempt at lift-off. The best times for launch are sunrise and sunset, when the air is most still. Sometime I will post about the trip we took that afternoon (it was literally the adventure of a lifetime, not what we expected, nor anything less than movie material!) above the beautiful Bethel area. This post, however, is about the highlight. In the sky above a snowy mountain, with no sound but the occasional whoosh of a burner, the man I have loved through thick and thin, who has grown to be as much a part of my heart as I am myself, produced a heart-shaped diamond ring from nowhere and asked me to be his wife. To this day, I do not know whether I spoke my assent. I was so filled with surprise, wonder and happiness that I only remember feeling even lighter than the lighter-than-air-filled silk that was carrying our wicker basket floor as part of the clouds. I was a bird, a butterfly, an angel on gossamer wings. I know I hugged him, and our pilot (who knew all along), and that I marvelled at how my ungloved hands were not even cold as I admired the most beautiful piece of jewelry I've ever owned glittering on my finger like the snow below us.

Once we landed and got back to civilization, I found out that nearly everyone we had met that day already knew Guy's plans. In fact, the next morning, when we went back to ski for a few hours, we were met in the Lodge by the Activities Director with a post-proposal proposition. She offered to foot the bill for our entire wedding, if we would get married the following weekend as part of the closing of the Festival. She had visions of our ceremony in the sky over the slopes, culminating in fireworks after our landing.

As tempting an offer it was, neither of us could bear the possibility of our families being unable to attend on such short notice. As Guy tried to explain, as tactfully as he could, I kept trying to imagine how on earth a bride could gracefully (or in any way attractively!) enter and exit a gondola in a wedding dress. Though disappointed, she completely understood, but didn't offer the invitation for the following year's festival--we might have taken her up on it, if she had!

I still gaze at that sparkling diamond, amazed that it was chosen especially for me. Although I'm sure others have them, I've never seen another heart-shaped engagement ring, and that has me admiring and appreciating it all the more. This stone has saved me on more than one occasion, and has brought a smile to not only my lips, but my own heart, many, many times. Like a crystal ball, the future and the past are found within, it's facets reflecting emotion, memories, hopes and dreams, along with the beauty that surrounded us--and surrounds us still--on that special, miraculous day.

Truly a blessing of the heart.

and always

Today, My Love

Twenty-two years ago, I spent the morning with some wonderful women preparing for the beginning of the adventure of a lifetime. We had our nails done (a gift for me from my employer), our makeup done (a gift from a friend), and Guy's sister did my hair (a gift from her to me). We laughed and dressed, wondered what affect the weather would have on our day, and marvelled at how quickly time was passing.

We'll start a brand new today, My Love

The kids arrived, with their lopsided smiles and fancy outfits, passing hugs out to everyone. D, with her hat, warmed my heart, telling me that she was so very excited that I would become her 'taunte' for real soon. I wonder if I have ever told her how integral a part she played in the early days of my relationship with her uncle; how special it has been to me that she was willing to have a part in that day, and in so many days since. Once my heart was warmed, Dan-O melted it, pointing out his "'Talian leather shoes" and saying, "You are so beautiful, Aunt Fannie!"

Let all our worries slip away, My Love

The big concern was how to get my lace boots out to the limo. The snow was wet and messy. The last thing I needed was cold feet--in the literal sense! Plastic grocery bags were produced, slipped on like Cinderella's slipper, and tied or rubber-banded to my ankles. I was reminded of elementary school, when Mom would have us put bread bags on our feet inside our snow boots, "just in case" the snow didn't stay out where it belonged. Back then, I was the only one with plastic boot liners; once again, I was the only one in the group with bags on her feet. A funny reminder of the circles in life.

Time for us to start anew!

As Guy walked his mother up the aisle, the soloist sang "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof. I peeked through the curtain to catch a glimpse of him, and immediately began to cry. Dad and I were alone in the little room, and he caught me in his arms telling me, "We don't have to go through with this. If you want me to take you out of here, we can go." At the time, I was so confused: I thought he liked Guy; I thought he was excited and happy for me. Years later, I realized it was one of only 2 times my father was so overcome by emotion he didn't know how to simply say, "You're my little girl. And you always will be." Despite my confusion at his reaction, I was overcome with joy that he was my Dad; the man I'd first given my heart to.

So let's pray My Love, All our tomorrows like today, Sweet Love

The rest of the day is a blur of ceremony, pictures, hugs, food, dance, laughter, and joy. Both our families were there (except my brother-in-love, who we thought of often that day, far away in Saudi Arabia) and so many wonderful friends. I have so many pictures, each of which brings back a sliver or the day--a word, a joke, a tear. Two of the dearest, though, I didn't see until many years afterwards: my college roommate snapped a picture of me dancing with Dad, and she had another of the two of us. Two very special moments, with two very special people. I love looking through those albums!

We'll be together this way, in Love

In the years since, we've had good days and bad days--heck, good years and bad years! We've not only aged, but we've also grown up together. We were so young when we married, and really did have so much to learn about everything. Have I ever wondered if we should have done things differently? Sure. Have I ever regretted any of it? Not a chance. There isn't anyone I'd rather have grown up with, learned with, made mistakes with. No one I'd rather be on this roller coaster adventure of a journey with. No one I'd rather dance with, laugh and cry with, talk with, fight with. Be with.

You for me and me for you.

We've faced challenges of all kinds: kids, financial, physical, emotional, marital.....but that can't break us. Together we are strong. At our wedding, against the wishes of some family members, when we lit our unity candle, we insisted on leaving our individual candles lit, too. We felt so strongly that we needed to be seen as individuals, as a man and a woman, in addition to being one, united couple, facing the world together. I still feel that way. Part of my strength comes from having the support of my husband behind me, but most of my strength comes from the fact of me, and my own experience, faith, and interests. We have more in common now than we did then; or, rather, we've found more of the things we share an interest in during these 22 years. But we've also come to terms with the differences we have. I will not likely ever want to just sit and watch a game on TV, just as he will not likely ever want to knit or sew. We still surprise each other with bits of ourselves: things we learn about ourselves and each other, still.

Much like the sunshine on a cloudy day, Love appears from no place

I wasn't looking for a soul mate when I found Guy. Far from it. I was looking to find myself. It seems that's when the best things happen: when searching takes a backseat. Since the first time I saw him, though, I've known that we shared something special. Could we have known each other in a past life, or were we destined to be together? Does it really matter why we found each other? The important thing is that we did, and that the love that has grown between us--though tested many times--has become a life force. I am blessed in that I have found the love of my life, and he has found me.

Just when I need someone to pull me through....
You'll be here for me, and I'll be there for you!

Happy anniversary, My Love. And thank you to all who have been there for us, with us, in support, in love, and in faith, whether in person or in spirit. We couldn't have gotten here without you.


Thank you to Midnight Star for the beautiful song we used for our first dance. Today My Love is engraved in our wedding rings, and has been a powerful reminder to us about how to live our marriage. Quite a departure from the songs for which you were known, and one that we can never request a DJ to play (no one knows what we're talking about!), the melody, lyrics and message come to me to "bring out the joy in me."

our infamous day

Twenty-one years ago today, I awoke in a bed that was not my own, eagerly and nervously anticipating the day, the week, the lifetime ahead. Looking out the window, I discovered that the snowflakes that had begun to fall the night before had continued, and now blanketed the ground. I had lived in Rhode Island for four winters, and could have counted the number of snowfalls that stuck on the fingers of one hand, plus one more that had occurred that same winter--on the night of Guy's bachelor party. Here I was on the morning of my wedding wondering if this snow was related to the crazy storm in Maine a year earlier when we had become engaged. My next thought, and the question my future sister-in-law asked, had to do with whether the native Rhode Islanders would attend the wedding.

A rhetorical question, really; I knew my family, who had travelled in from upstate New York, Vermont, Minnesota (and Kentucky, but he had lived in Ohio for quite a while!) would think nothing of driving in the slop, and most of Guy's family lived close enough to avoid I-95, which ended up to be pretty clear.

My bridesmaids arrived, and we went to have nails and make-up done, Lisa did my hair, they got me dressed, the photographer arrived. There's a commercial on TV now in which a little boy breathlessly tells a bride as she finishes preparations for her wedding that she is "so beautiful!" and runs away. That could have been my nephew, Dan, our ring bearer--right after he showed off his "Tail-yon leadder shoos." Guy's niece, Danielle, could not have been sweeter in her velveteen dress and hat, telling me she couldn't wait for the moment I would become her Tante Stephanie.

So quickly, it was time to think about getting to the limo--through the snow. We had no choice once the suggestion was made: my bridesmaids put my lace boots in plastic bags and tied them up. With my feet inside them. Yes, indeed, I walked from the house to the limo and from the limo to the church sporting plastic shopping bags. And I was absolutely thrilled!! Fortunately, someone captured a photo, otherwise there will come a day when no one believes that!

As we waited behind the curtained glass wall of the cry room for the ceremony to begin, and the strains of "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof began, I peeked through the curtain to see our mothers being seated. The line "When did he grow to be so tall?" came just as Guy escorted his mother to her seat, I was overcome, and nearly began to sob. Dad was there, putting his arms around me and murmuring to me to calm me. I'll never forget that moment, those words. The way he smiled when I told him I was ready.

While I loved the ceremony, and the fact that it joined us as man and wife, I'm so very grateful for the numerous pictures taken by our photographer and our families and friends. Honestly, I don't remember much of the ceremony, other than silently directing Michael in when to sit and stand, while Guy did the same for Lynne, and wishing I could just chat with Guy while everything was going on.

I do remember Guy making his "lizard face" for a video camera while we waited for the reception; needing at least two bridesmaids to assist me in getting my dress out of the way so I could go to the bathroom; Rich and Guy causing a bit of a ruckus in the hallways in an effort to speed along our dinner; Andy laughing; all of us trying to hide in an alcove, as though anyone could have missed that huge white dress!

What a reception! From our introductions to our exit, we had a most wonderful time at the party! Whistles and hoots accompanied each introduction--including those of our parents, and I don't think I have ever smiled and laughed so continuously in my life before or since. All these years later, we still occasionally hear comments about our sorbet course, and Mom's dress. My family has always been quite "involved" in the glass tinkling tradition of getting the bride and groom to kiss. We complied, of course, dropping everything to exchange a kiss, or playfully searching the 3-5 feet between us--until, of course, dinner was served. That's when we got our wedding party involved. Mike and Lynne stood in readily, as they are married to each other. At one point, however, I remember motioning to Liz and Rich--Matron of Honor and Best Man--to take over, and I'm pretty sure there were times when each of us just kissed whoever was closest.

And the dancing! Our waltz that we learned under the careful instruction of Guy's cousin; sharing the dance floor with only my new husband for half the song, and then having our closest, dearest friends join us: our wedding party. Then a dance with our parents--me and Dad, Guy and his mom--that became a sing-along: Edelweiss. The polka I danced with Andy, who said he had no idea how; I back led him around the floor, saying "hopstepstepstep" the entire time. The dollar dance, where Liz and Rich required not only a dollar from each person in line, but also a kiss. The way we actually snuck out at the end, so we would not have to say goodbye or see the party break up. And neither of us had had more than a flute of champagne and a glass of wine.

It's hard to believe so many years have passed. I can still taste the cake--The cake!! A marvelous gift of the most succulent heart-shaped chocolate-chocolate mousse cake made by one of my college roommates!!--and I can still feel the warmth of that winter celebration. We were 21 when we married, so at some point in the next few months, we will hit that moment when we have been married longer than we were not. It's an odd thought, especially since there are times when I have to remind myself that Guy was not there when some singular childhood event happened, or that he may not have met this friend I've known all my life. It seems to me that he's always been there, and that we only just had to find each other. Neither of us is easy to live with, and at times we've each wondered at the wisdom of our love for each other, but I could not imagine a life without him in it.

All these things I think about every year on this day. The memories, feelings, emotions are not reserved for this day alone, but they come together in a rush each year on January 12th, the day that changed everything. The day that two became one, yet maintained their individual light, going against the grain. I love you, Guy, and am so happy to be your wife.