I got married during a flashflood, in a red silk dress I bought for $20 in Chinatown. I was 5 months pregnant. I remember nervously twisting my engagement ring as my almost-husband drove carefully through the puddles that got ever deeper, until we had to turn around and take another road. The asphalt directly in front of the JoPs house was awash as well, but we took a chance.
I did think, for just a moment, that it was a sign. If it was so difficult just to get to the person who would sign our marriage certificate, what would married life be like? But we were inside and a slight, older woman was smiling and asking us to repeat vows and everything fell away. I remember squeezing Z's hand as he slipped a wedding ring onto my other one. I remember trying to put his wedding ring on his right hand. But what I remember most was that, as we were pronounced husband and wife, the sun came out.
Our first year of marriage was hard. There was the aforementioned baby, a layoff, financial problems, and more drama. But I always think of our wedding day as a metaphor for our relationship: we were willing to struggle through the storm to be bound together and we were still standing when the sun came out.
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