A story for the soon to be married: remember the day after

Since I got engaged last year, I have become obsessed with weddings. I love looking at wedding pictures. I love hearing the vows. I love seeing the hair and make up. I love watching the color schemes come together. I love seeing the couple so happy. I still look at wedding ideas on Pinterest, and I cry at wedding videos of strangers. Love is truly a beautiful thing, and weddings symbolize that for us. But here’s the secret: I’d never plan another wedding if my life depended on it.  For one, I was not good at it. I learned quickly that Pinterest board only get you so far. We did almost everything at the last minute. I picked the first dress that fit right because it was on sale, had the back I wanted, and I could move my legs. I ran around hobby lobby three days before the wedding buying flowers girl items. Our cupcakes came from Sams and we served pizza from Little Caesars. A friend of mine finished the grooms gifts 10 minutes before the rehearsal dinner. The only reason it was even as big as it was is because Reed and I kept remembering people, and didn’t want to tell anyone we loved they couldn’t come. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was us, no doubt. By the time the ceremony was about to start, I was ready to sprint down the aisle. I probably looked like I was gearing up to run the 100 meter dash. I looked at my dad and said “IT’S OVER! IT’S FINALLY OVER!”, to which he just smile and replied “It’s just beginning.”

He has a way of saying things so simply, but so profound. He didn’t mean the wedding. He was right, as always. 

The one thing I can remember is the peace I felt when the doors opened. I didn’t cry, really. I was just so happy to finally see Reed, and to do what we had been planning for over a year: start a family. Our bridal party looked amazing, our pictures are gorgeous, the music was exactly what we wanted, but none of that mattered once I was with my parents and Reed at the end of the aisle. 

Our wedding day was magical. We were surrounded by family and friends, and felt so much love and support from them. Many tears were shed, lots of laughs were shared, and it was exactly how we wanted it. 

But, to me, it was no where near as magical as the next 24 hours. 

As soon as we left the church, we drove straight to buy Reed a silicone band, because his ring didn’t fit. Instead of going home, we went to Buffalo Wild Wings with some of our best friends. Then, we came home, and snuggled our pup. These were the first normal things we’d been able to do all day.

Since we’re procrastinators, the day after our wedding, we did laundry all day to pack for our honeymoon. We finished our first load in the washer, put it in the dryer, and were bound and determined to leave for Jacksonville, FL as soon as it was done. 

So we waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

Until it was almost 3pm, when our clothes were still soaking wet. Our yard sale dryer tried it’s best, but just made our clothes hot and wet instead of cold and wet. We did what, I believe, any young adult would do in this situation. We put all the clothes on hangers, and drove to Jacksonville, hoping they’d be dry enough to pack when we got to our hotel. Spoiler alert: they weren’t and we wore half damp clothes half of our honeymoon. 

The entire ride to Florida, Reed and I talked, and laughed, and sang at the top of our lungs. We made jokes about how nervous we were before the wedding. We ate gas station food, and people watched in the parking lot. We made plans for our next adventures to concerts and sports events. We waved frantically at the truck drivers who honked when they read “Just Married” on the back of the car. 

When we got to our hotel, we watched the SNL clips from the night before (which was the Harry Styles episode; easily the best one in years). We took the first showers we’d had since the wedding. Reed wrote I love you in the steam before going to get us ice cream. We listened to Post Malone and dreamed about the Guy Burger’s we’d be able to eat on our cruise. 

Nothing in the world mattered. While our wedding was about us, this was the first time in weeks it was finally, truly, just us.

This was my favorite part of our wedding weekend. The time where we could finally breath, make authentically us memories, and genuinely be ourselves. 

It is my favorite, because this is when our marriage started. 

Not when we poured sand in our hourglass, but when we were laughing at our dryer not working. 

Not when our friend sang a gorgeous cover of You Say, but when we were able to have an 8 hour talk in the car. 

Not when we shoved cake in each other’s faces for the camera, but when we wrote notes to each other in the steam of our showers. 

Not when we ran through a beautiful display of  sparklers for our exit, but when we laid in bed and laughed at SNL videos together. 

So Brides and Grooms, remember those moments, too. It may be impossible to remember the hectic day that is a wedding day, but remember the day after. The day when life is not a fantastical, magnificent dream. 

The day when your husband goes back to crocs and sweatpants, instead of a suit. Or when your wife barely brushes her hair, let alone wears fake eyelashes. 

Remember the first time you laugh with your significant other as a spouse, and not as your boyfriend or girlfriend. 

The first “crisis” you face together, whether big or small. 

The first song you get to sing in the car together as a married couple. 

The first time you get to talk about them as “my husband” or “my wife”, even if it’s followed by “...has been puking for 8 hours because he’s sea sick”. 

Remember it, because these are the moments that you promised to each other, not days of expensive dresses and tuxedos. The trivial, beautiful, hilarious, basic moments that are everyday life. That’s what’s important.

Weddings are beautiful, and I am so thankful everyday for the people who helped pull mine off, but that’s not marriage. 

Marriage is the day after.