I’m getting married in a couple weeks. At city hall. Please don’t measure the quality of our friendship by whether you will be there. It’s not even really at city hall. It’s a few blocks away at the marriage bureau, which has a floor-to-ceiling photo backdrop of city hall next to its trinket stand with SPOUSE A and SPOUSE B t-shirts. A solid government building that has been cleaned so many times that its edges and corners have been rounded, it reminds me of a train, a post office, maybe a church. I grew up sceptical of the institution of marriage. I appreciated the people, the parties, my role as flower girl, the dancing. I appreciated tradition, and community, if not commercialized monotheism and patriarchy.
What am I struggling to communicate? Something about identity. Am I the type of person, are we the type of couple, that plans a wedding in two months, after being engaged for over a year and dating over five? That buys a sequined jumpsuit as my wedding outfit after a ten minute online search, and grudgingly tries on a couple other options and sizes and procures shoe options? Who realizes, while showering on the day city hall appointments go live, that we can be the first couple married in 2023 if we book an appointment thirty minutes earlier than we planned, and decides to do this? Yes. And this wedding day carries a lot of judgement.
Is it that I prefer you judge me by other life details? That any pen I have held for more than about fifteen minutes has gotten its clip snapped off? That my voice is very quiet, and easily tires if I try to speak up? That, if I knew what I was getting into, I would have skipped many of my favorite adventures? That Joe helps me knowingly choose new adventures? That he shares and supports my peculiar need to obsessively learn new things?
Today, boxing day, I woke up having dreamed of some wedding details. The officient, who was at the restaurant, not city hall, was a little person, flamboyant and in a rush, but agreed to read the ceremony vows to us ahead of time. There were several options, and I wasn’t sure what make sense, especially with respect to GOD references. He hurried through reading the one he’d selected, and I was surprised when his whisper turned to singing under his breath… “and he swims just Like a Raven” came with arm gestures, which Joseph copied behind him in his sun hat, and I know it would work. The other details I remember are a beautiful patterned shirt my father, who confirmed yesterday he perfers being called Arvydas, wore, and a cloth with holes in the edges, where we threaded thick wool yarn for each of the guests.