It was so imperfect. Honestly. (The day we said, “I do”, and why the wedding day does not a marriage make)

I’ll never forget walking into that City Hall in Downtown Brooklyn with you.

Walking up the stairs of that gray, cold concrete building,

on that gray, rainy, weekday.

Was it a Monday? I think it was a Monday.

Sitting next to that couple.

Do you remember?

She was wearing a skin-tight, leopard suit.

He had a gold, front tooth and too much cologne.

But, who was I to judge?

I was wearing that see-through dress that I bought a couple of days earlier, all alone at Loehman’s on Sheepshead Bay Road.

I hadn’t thought about the lack of lighting in that tiny, dressing room.

What a mistake.

We sat there amongst all those other couples. It was packed.

With that Italian guy from Rimini that we met one afternoon while selling Botanica Frozen Tea in Brooklyn Heights. I think that it was Brooklyn Heights.

His name was Andrea like yours, wasn’t it?

Your memory has always been so much better than mine.

This stranger that we met for a brief moment. Our only witness.

Too bad that it was last minute. Too bad that we didn’t tell hardly anyone.

Too bad Heather had to work.

I waited as they called other people’s names and you ran to put a few more quarters in the meter so we wouldn’t get a ticket that we couldn’t afford.

OMG. We were so broke.

It was so imperfect. Honestly.

And, after such a fairytale, love-at-first-sight, Caribbean island beginning.

Now, we can only laugh.

Both marriage and life require a great sense of humor.

“As my dad said to my mom at the altar, ‘You are already here so you might as well make the best of it’.” (Virgin River, Hope)

We don’t have a single photo to display in a fancy frame on some shelf somewhere.

I was sadder than I let on.

No family or friends by our side.

But, then you held my hand. This, you may not remember.

And, your eyes looked into my eyes.

They smiled at me like only your eyes know how.

Even today.

And, I felt safe and reassured.

It was going to be ok.

A female judge named Johnnie Johnson wed us. She hardly cracked a smile.

It was over practically before we could say, “I do”.

But, we did.

Is it horrible that I can’t even remember if we kissed?

Did she give us time to kiss?

I like to think that we kissed.

All I remember is running back out in the rain, getting into that used, white van with my see-through dress clinging to my body and, if possible, even more see-through than before.

We dropped that Italian guy off somewhere, never to be seen or heard from again.

We went back to work.

In our used, white van.

Selling Botanica.

It continued to rain. Pour.

We kissed. Alot.

This I remember.

We were so in love. Truly.

That night you took me to Pizza Hut.

It reminded us of our perfect, island love story.

It felt romantic.

It was so imperfect. Honestly.

During dinner I didn’t tell you, but…

I wished I had at least just one photo.

I wished my dress was white and long and beautiful like in all those romantic movies I watched from my early teens.

I wished it wasn’t see-through, that jade-colored dress…

even though I knew that it was the reason you liked it even more.

I wished that I had flowers.

A flower.

I wished that it wasn’t in City Hall.

I wished that Johnnie Johnson would have smiled.

She must have really hated her job.

I wished that there were friends and family.

My mom and dad, Shellie and Jackie.

Many others.

Perhaps I also wished that we had kissed.

Or maybe we did.

Help me to remember.

I didn’t tell you.

I never told you.

For a long time I forgot, until now.

It only lasted for a flash of a few seconds.

Honestly.

When I looked up from my deep dish pizza,

you were looking at me.

And, your eyes smiled.

And, I felt safe and reassured.

It was going to be ok. Better than ok.

After that, it happened again and again and again.

Your eyes smiling and saving me.

Even now.

So here we are 25 years after that horrible wedding.

No photos. No white dress tucked way back in a closet.

No useless, wedding presents to reminisce and laugh about.

No family to recollect with.

Only imperfect memories.

And, yet it’s really ok. Better than ok.

From the moment I met you, I somehow knew

(don’t ask me how because I knew less than nothing back then)

that you were the one for me.

Karen and a couple of other important people knew it as well.

And from that, we created this crazy, beautiful, for both the good and the bad, extremely passionate life.

Two beautiful daughters.

So many adventures.

So many fights and so many great memories later…

Here we are.

Imperfectly, and yet magically… mysteriously together.

I could ask you why you love me, but I rather concentrate on how you love me.

Before I do, allow me to say, ‘Thank you.’

Thank you for loving me.

You love me harder when it is hard.

You love me with that tough love that I often dread, but almost always understand in the end.

And, I know that even when you throw your scary face on me -the one when your eyes seem to be about to pop out of your head- even then you are loving me deeply and completely.

I know because I have spent the past 26 years getting to know you from the inside out.

I know because I feel the passion behind every frustrated word

and during those moments, it is as if I could see all the way down to the bottom of your heart.

I see it struggling. I see it breaking. I see it searching.

I don’t think that I ever told you this before.

I don’t know why.

Sometimes, when you are truly angry, I feel the perfection.

Honestly.

Does this sound crazy?

You love me wholly because you tell me that you love my smile and how beautiful I still am, while unconditionally loving all of my limitations and defects and scars.

You love me in this rare way,

with those gorgeous, round smiling eyes

and your entire heart and soul…

your lovely, sensitive soul.

The same one that tells you to move worms safely to the side of the road.

You love me in a way that makes me feel safe, and reassured that it is truly going to last for forever.

The way you love me tells me that even now, after one of the most challenging years of our 25 years of marriage… and 26 years together,

it’s going to be ok.

Or even better!

Through the years we have fought to keep each other strong.

But, not always.

We are so imperfect. Honestly.

Many days we still fail, and instead of the very best, we bring out the absolute worst in each other.

You say that I don’t listen. I insist that I am.

You say… I say…

things get heated and steamy until, we remember…

that it is better to cool down,

and that most of the times, it really isn’t important who is right if it leads both of us to act so wrong.

We remember how to brush it off,

pick up the pieces of our shattered egos,

and hold one another up one more time.

And then sometimes you start singing.

To me. For us.

And every bad feeling is washed away. And our faces relax. And your eyes start smiling again…

and my heart explodes with emotion.

Oh, how I love it when you sing to me!

All those perfectly, imperfect times…

We have overcome obstacles that only a love that is more than enough could survive.

I wake up every morning for the past year and a half, thinking that nothing makes sense.

Except us. Our family. Our resilience and strength.

My one constant in this imperfect existence.

I wake up doubting what the future has to offer every day.

Do you remember that day about a month ago when I woke up crying?

I dreamt about us. We were old and still so much in love.

I woke up thinking about today, our 25th wedding anniversary.

I came to you hysterical because I realized that with all this talk of lack of freedom and everything going on in the world, we may not have another 25 years together.

The thought of this was just too much.

I was acting crazy. Perhaps I was still half asleep.

You didn’t say a word, but you understood.

You hugged me tight.

Honestly, it was perfect.

This is why I love you.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night,  I wake up in a puddle of frustration, tears, anxiety and sweat.

I don’t want to wake you. You are so beautiful when at rest.

Lately, you have been sleeping so soundly.

The thoughts of the day drain you, until the tank runs dry and the churning of your brain finally stops.

In these moments, I put into practice all that I learn on my mat.

And, for the most part, all those hours pay off.

I am able to self soothe myself.

But at the same time, I also reach for your hand.

I place my head on your shoulder.

I listen to your heartbeat and bring my breath in sync with yours.

And, I feel safe and reassured.

I close my eyes and see your eyes smiling back at me.

And, I feel it. And, I hear you…

you telling me with your brutal honesty…

Nothing is ok.  

Except for us.

Then, I see myself as I hold onto you even tighter and silently respond, “Right now we are ok. Better than ok. And, this is enough… more than enough because with you, I can still feel ‘the forever.’”

And, so it is.

And so it is….

This post is dedicated to the power of love, the sacredness of marriage and family, and the loving awareness that is within each one of us. We love to love the things that are perfect, but it is when things are imperfect, that we need to love even more. This is where this beautiful, blissful feeling of forever is able to survive.

Happy Anniversary Cane Matto, Durante Darling! Needless to say, I will always love you. Forever and ever.