You know how they say time either goes so slow you can see each grain of sand slip through an hourglass or it moves so fast that you can't catch your breath? OK, maybe that's just something I say, but it perfectly describes the lead up to W-Day.
I tried to convince everyone that I should bake our wedding cake, but George looked at me like I'd lost my fucking mind and shooed me out of the kitchen - all the kitchens.
Before I could argue that I knew best the flavors that both Clay and I preferred, my darling uncle reminded me who taught me the art of baking, who had baked all my birthday cakes and desserts growing up, and dared me to provoke him.
I swore to Carrie that I could manage my own hair and makeup on the happy day, but she glared at me with a fierceness that had me feeling extremely worried about Jake's livelihood during her labor and delivery. I was meek as her cousin Antony sat me in a chair to show me how he could create miracles out of nothing - earning him a glare of his own and helping to keep his word choice more complimentary during the trial and promising it would carry over to the actual day.
I nearly pulled out that miracle hairdo that Antony created when Clay was unceremoniously yanked from our sinful living arrangements the night before our special day by his team and Davey, while George and Carrie forced me into something that looked like a tragic slumber party - made more tragic when my own employees showed up to take part in keeping me from enjoying my last night as a single woman having enthusiastic sex with the man she planned on marrying - you know a last hurrah before we were Mr. and Mrs.
Morning dawned with me surrounded by the people who I'd thought I was closest to in my life, but it lacked the one face I wanted to see most of all - and if there had been any doubts (there weren't, but if there had been) any fears or worries that I had made the wrong choice in finally answering Clay in the affirmative that would have calmed them right the fuck down.
My phone rang and I grabbed it before someone could steal it from me on some superstitious tear about hearing his voice before saying "I do", and his voice rumbled through the earpiece, warming me to my toes and I felt like we couldn't be ready fast enough.
Unlike Carrie and Jake, Clay and I wanted something a little more traditional - sort of. Instead of the beach, and not one of the many small churches that littered my hometown, we chose to get married at home. In the backyard where my uncles had set up my answer to him, the arbor was draped in honeysuckle and fairy lights - a touch that would be lost until the evening's darkness would grow - enough seating for the small clutch of people we wanted to bear witness to our happy moment, and as the music swelled and I stood between Davey and George - seeing Clay's face as he finally got to see me in my gown reminded me of my uncle's promise of how perfect that moment would be.
The ceremony seemed to float by, my entire focus on the man I planned to spend forever with, and then I heard the officiant give him freedom to take what was always his - and as his face drew closer, before his lips could touch mine, he finally got to say the words he swore he couldn't wait to say.
"I love you, Mrs. Franklin Clay," his smile blending into a kiss that I felt throughout my body. A feeling I knew the people who created me might not have truly felt, but that was so powerful that I knew - without a single doubt - my mom had wanted me to have and that she knew, wherever she was, that I had it. Forever.