I walk down the hallway, on my father's arm. I know he's crying, even though he's trying to hide it...
As soon as I turn the corner, though, I forget everything.
Everything except the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle.
I cannot believe this.
I think I might start hyperventilating.
Is this really happening?
Harry, Harry-
"Harry," as I near the end of the aisle that suddenly stretches for miles; I am only too eager to reach the end. My paces begin to falter as I fight the urge to sprint the last few feet. I silently thank my father for remembering our conversation thirty minutes earlier:
"Dad, no matter how hard I pull do not let me get ahead of the music." I'd anticipated this.
I suddenly wished the lacy veil was not blocking my view. I did not want to miss any second of this, the day I'd been dreaming about for ten years, since I was nine.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
Great, now I was crying, too.
"You may kiss the bride."
I was way ahead of him, though; I'd already pulled Harry-my husband-in for an embrace.
There we stood, for what seemed like five seconds, but, by the sound of the faint giggles and titters, was probably a couple minutes at least.
"I love you."
"I know."