It’s now been seven years since 09.08.07 at 6 p.m. Here’s a bit of what I wrote about our wedding day, and the years after, two years ago:
I didn’t freak out when the flowers didn’t make it onto the cake the right way, or when my dad somehow forgot his tux jacket back in Walpole, or when the crazy Jimmy Buffett fans in the hotel ransacked the bathroom baskets my mother had put together. I didn’t even notice when the sky turned dark just before the ceremony. After all, I’d just kept telling myself, “all that matters is that we’re married at the end of the day.”
And then I forgot the marriage license.
The cake turned out fine. My brother drove home to get my dad’s jacket. We missed the thunderstorm by minutes. Technically, we weren’t actually married at the end of the day. Oops. (Thanks, Father Tom/Kenny Rogers, for being willing to backdate that license when you got it.)
That was just the first speed bump we’d hit in our married life, and I’m glad to say that we laughed it off and then poured some champagne.
It hasn’t been quite as easy to clear every hurdle since then. Some days — some weeks, some months — have featured more tears than laughs. Some have called for drinks stronger and less celebratory than bubbly.
Five years later, here we are. As I look back, I realize that those dark days helped create the contrast that’s made so many others so bright and Ballatore-worthy: fancy, formal days when our brothers and my sister got married and lazy Sunday mornings spent in pajamas with coffee, munchkins, Clarence, and Meet the Press; the night the Sox won the 2007 World Series and Stephen Strasburg’s first start; a morning in the Sistine Chapel and an afternoon driving around the battlefield at Gettysburg.
We’ve packed a lot more living into the last two years. True to style, those days have been filled with lots of laughs, some tears, and yes, some Ballatore. We’ve welcomed Teddy, bought and renovated a new-to-us house, said goodbye to Clar, made it through lots more doctor’s appointments and even a couple of flights with a toddler, hosted lots of fatty football parties, and watched the Sox win another World Series.
And just as in 2012, we’re poised again for a big change this fall. As I said two years ago, every day ahead won’t be easy. But then again, I didn’t sign up for “easy” on that hot, humid, numerically attractive day seven years ago. I wanted a rich, full life, and I’ve gotten it — and then some.
Keep it coming.