Well, almost. As I approached the exit, heels clicking rhythmically on the marbled floors, one thought kept interjecting itself into my reverie: "Hold the door open for Ryan, hold the door open for Ryan."
{Photos by Aruna B. Photography}
Once assured that I wouldn't be discourteously slamming a heavy door in our videographer's face, I only had eyes and an impish little smile for Mr. Tartlet as I made my approach.
When I came within reach of my husband-to-be, I found that I was unable to utter a sound, not even a characteristic squeak--quite unusual for the gal whose soundtrack is composed of some pretty strange noises. I did what came naturally, which was to reach up and give his left shoulder a silent squeeze.
He turned his head, and I could see the grin-induced crinkles in the corner of his eye that first attracted me to him seven years ago.
Beaming, our eyes met for the first time on our wedding day.
Mr. Tartlet drew me in for a hug, and softly whispered in my ear: "I love you."
Those three words, all too often casually said between couples, held so much more weight that day. We fell in love within a matter of weeks, at a time when both of our lives were fraught with change and uncertainty. We spent our first year together in separate cities--me in Ann Arbor, he in Kalamazoo--and there were growing pains on both ends as we slowly learned about each other during nightly phone calls, the occasional weekend visit, and via the online gaming world. Contrary to our beliefs, the relationship didn't get any easier after he moved to Ann Arbor: we blundered our way through the art of cohabitation, compromise, and being together while maintaining our individuality. Needless to say, there have been turbulent times in our seven year relationship when we felt like we couldn't say "I love you."
As we leaned towards each other to share a kiss, I felt a gentle breeze catch my veil, wrapping it around us in a lacy embrace.
It was truly a perfect moment.
Conscientious of my makeup, I carefully dabbed my tears away...
...and suddenly remembered something very important that I had yet to show Mr. Tartlet.
The decision to have a first look revolved not so much around our wishes, but around the beast of all wedding days: Timing. It was initially a tough pill for me to swallow, as the idea of not seeing Mr. Tartlet until I walked down the aisle was firmly ingrained in my mind. Reason trumped desire, though, and neither of us regret the compromise. Those first few moments alone were incredibly precious. Although, we weren't quite as alone as we thought.
The girls and my mom surveying our first look from the bridal suite
"Grow old with me, the best is yet to be."
-Robert Browning
I'm looking forward to the times when neither the dress nor suit fit and our hair is grey, yet we still walk hand in hand with the same expression on our faces. Up next: the entire wedding party gets in on the fun!
*All photos by Aruna B. Photography
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