On the subject of a wedding and an anniversary

Three years ago I married a man.  This man was named Steven.  We had a wonderful wedding (but a horrible photographer, so excuse the AWFUL pictures.)  I wanted to share a few of the highlights since I never had before. First the happy couple.

Now Steven and I met because of rugby, and myspace, but myspace isn’t important here. We incorporated rugby into the pictures.

Here was the gorgeous flower girl, my niece.

And my girls: Jen, Chris, and Kateri.

And the guys: Kobus (Steven’s cousin from South Africa) and Eugene.

I got to hold pretty flowers.

And Steven’s now departed Ouma got to see her grandson married.  She flew from South Africa, and I was blessed to meet her.

We handmade table names from homemade paper, giving them each a different wine varietal name.

We passed out favors. We hand stuffed tea into tea bags. The tea was rooibos, in honor of Steven’s South African heritage.

We ate cake.

We had cocktails, this one especially crafted for me by my former college professor who moonlights as a hotel bartender.

We watched the sunset.

And we danced.

And it wouldn’t have been what it was if it weren’t for my parents.

But a wedding would have meant nothing if it weren’t for what came from it. A commitment.  A wedding is just one day. Our marriage is forever.  I love you Steven.