April 21, 1982 was a Wednesday – my husband and I stood before a Justice of the Peace in a chapel on the Las Vegas strip. We hadn’t planned to be there, hadn’t talked about a Vegas wedding or announced our intention. The previous day had started as any other, by evening we were on a plane to Vegas. A wedding band purchased at a shop in Caesar’s Palace, $35 for a license at the court house, a few cruises of the strip before settling on one of the all night chapels – we were married.
No wedding dress, flowers, photographs, first dance or cake – never important, never missed and never regretted.
If we’re lucky enough to find that one person; the person destined to nurture without coddling, listen without judgement, hear our darkest secrets without bolting, smile fondly in understanding of our frailties, give us as much rope as we need but never enough to hang ourselves, and call bullshit when necessary – nothing else matters.
Thirty two years ago I became whole, living life as intended with the one person capable of making it complete. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks or if one of us stumbles and falls – we have each other and nothing can take that away.