Two days after Valentine’s day, Jonathan – a young, struggling entrepreneur, flew in from metropolitan Calgary, Alberta to a small New England town. And why? To meet the girl who would one day become his wife.
She closed her eyes and took his hand as he led her through the woods. The snow crunched under their feet as they walked together, and the wind whistled through the trees. They stopped, and he let go of her hand. He told her she could open her eyes; and when she did, he was on one knee in front of her. And he had a ring.
It was seven years ago in January. I remember sitting in the audience, watching Rebecca and John being united for life. It was a momentous occasion – not only for them, but for me. It was the first wedding I’d ever been to. I don’t remember too much about their wedding because I was just a kid, and kids don’t notice the details, but I do remember one thing. They loved each other. And they were excited to be married, and I was excited for them. I remember them leaving the church, and, instead of throwing rice, everyone blew bubbles. I thought it was magical, but it was beautiful and special too.