It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.
Now, of course, I did not write that line (as if!) That would be the great and problematic Charles Dickens. But it is on my mind, as I have finally, FINALLY, finished A Tale of Two Cities after many years of attempts, and it was 100% worth it.
Now, I am not comparing this time of my life to the French Revolution (not nearly as many beheadings…) but that opening line is iconic for a reason. It perfectly captures the feelings of a turning point, a holding of the breath, the contradictions of change.
Naturally, these things are on my mind as I try to write my last blog as an unmarried woman. There are plenty of things I could write about, so many different thoughts and emotions tied up in that one fact. But today I am not thinking about everything that still needs to be done, I am thinking about how bittersweet it is to say hello and goodbye at the same time. I am thinking about the heartache of turning pages (so, not much different than usual, I guess…)
So often lately, I find myself trying to make sense of everything in order to see what is coming, to find the hindsight before events are even in the rear-view mirror. It’s like I am trying to get ahead of things that don’t even exist yet. But life is simply not like that.
How many times have I written about the importance of being in the moment? Countless. And yet here I am acting as if anything as unknowable as the future is within my control.
Pattern recognition is one thing; trying to be clairvoyant is another. Give me a break!
Much like the way Charles Dickens writes, sometimes you have to make it to the end of a sequence of events to understand their purpose. You have to gain the whole context before seeing the meaning. (If you have read any of his works, you know what I mean).
My friend and I were talking the other day about how planning a wedding (she is also planning one) is a chance to see how you and your partner collaborate and problem-solve.
You certainly learn a lot about a person when trying to coordinate logistics and expectations and family members. I wondered what elements of the wedding were going to be important to my fiancé—turns out cutting the cake with a custom sword is critical (yes I am serious and it so freaking cool looking).
As all the little pieces finally fall into place, I find it harder to sit still. I don’t want to rush these last few weeks of being engaged—I’ll never get to be a fiancée again, after all—but at the same time, I am so ready for what’s next.
But really, as my seamstress said upon learning we had gotten our marriage certificate: “You have the dress, the marriage license, the guy, what else could you need?” (“A little wine” was my addition, but I generally agree.) We have everything we need to start our next chapter together, and more. We are blessed.
The next time I write on this blog, I will be a wife. I will have a husband. And not just any one, either! The one I always hoped I would have. God-given.
I may not believe in “the one”—but I sure do believe in this one, and I sure am completely disinterested in having any other one by my side. To have and to hold. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.
Thanks for reading, y’all.