Becoming Mrs. SmithPublished 11:45am Sunday, October 13, 2013
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It was like a dream. I felt like I was floating down the aisle. The look in his eyes grounded me. He loves me. His eyes were watery, but I stayed strong. Daddy started to give me away to him, but he paused. I knew he was emotional. But I stayed strong.
The yard and house were decorated just like I wanted. There were lights and cotton everywhere. Vintage southern pieces – family heirlooms – made the old south theme real. White tents, tool, burlap and lace, white-washed benches, white wooden chairs, baby’s breath and antique roses donned my parents’ homestead. Lights glowed in the pond. A biscuit bar and coke float station, along with an abundance of southern comfort food satisfied everyone’s taste buds. It was exactly what I’d imagined. I felt like a southern belle. My country boy is mine now. Forever.
The wedding and reception were beautiful, but the most beautiful thing was the way he looked at me. I was a basket case right before walking down that grass aisle. I paced around and redid my lipstick ten times. My sweet bridesmaids were rocks for me. I felt stable with them standing beside me. We wrote our own vows, and Jacob’s were perfect. Our voices quivered with emotion as we spoke the promises to each other. After the vows were said, we danced the night away and hurried between sparklers to a decorated getaway truck. (P.S. Thanks groomsmen, for the cotton boll dipped in doe urine you put in our air vent.)
The hardest part of the night was dancing with my daddy. I stupidly picked a song we’d danced to when I was a little girl. Daddy had “Unchained Melody” on a cassette, and I’d get on his feet, and we’d dance. I tried to make small talk through our dance, and it didn’t help that Mama was crying her eyes out in the corner. I’m still in shock – Daddy and I made it through the thing. By God’s grace, I didn’t start bawling on his shoulder. I would no longer be under his roof. I would no longer be solely in his care, but in the care of another man. I know he’s glad that man is Jacob. I couldn’t have married a better man.
One of the easier parts of the evening was walking through the grass to Jacob. I was worried I would trip over my dress, but leaning on Daddy’s strong arm, the walk was graceful (though a little swift – I think Daddy was nervous).
One bridesmaid, however, lost her shoe, but claims she casually reclaimed it. I don’t regret having an outside wedding, though. God blessed the day with beautiful weather. The next few days, it rained. He created a window of sunshine for Jacob and me.
My one regret is only having one bite of cake. I told Mama I didn’t want the top tier. I’m the queen of expiration dates. One-year-old cake is not passing through these lips. Although, Jacob and I ate plenty on our Jamaican honeymoon. That story is for next week.
Our wedding day was a wonderful blessing. We were surrounded and supported by the people we love. Sparkling lights and fiddle and mandolin set the perfect ambience for a southern wedding on a cool September night.
You may write to Jessica Boyd-Smith by emailing firstname.lastname@example.org.