Wednesday, 28 July 2010
Three years ago today, one hundred guests danced in the pouring rain because it was my childhood dream to dance barefoot in the meadow on my wedding day.
My memories of that night are as vivid and as vague as dreams, worn at the edges through years of repetitive handling, but as cherished as any in my possession.
I remember the crack of disappointment that I felt as I looked at the rain pouring off the canvas and realised that I wouldn't dance barefoot beside the river after all.
I remember James peeling open the sides of the marquee to let the cool night air rush in, the look of enthusiasm on his face as he rallied the guests out into the rain, and the feeling of the cold, wet grass beneath my toes as I kicked off my flip-flops and skipped out into the night.
I remember the burning torches becoming bright streaks of flame in the darkness as I spun on my new husband's arm, and I remember screaming with abandon as I galloped between lines of clapping friends.
I remember grappling with layers of white netting as I danced and the look of panic on my new sister-in-law's face as the ribbons of my dress caught light.
I remember the magic of fairy lights and rain drops mingling in my vision and the thrill of the first silver shards of light fizzing from the sparklers.
But above all these things I remember the pure joy that I saw on my guests' wet faces and the happiness that effervesced in my chest, as if my soul were drunk on champagne.
Anniversaries are generally used as an opportunity to reflect on the love that couples have for each other but when I think back to our wedding day I'm reminded most of all of the layers of love that surround us.
Our wedding anniversary will always remind me of my deep love for my husband, but it will also remind me of our family and friends, who loved us enough and were crazy enough to dance in the rain to make our special day complete.