My wedding day was beautiful. I prayed for perfect weather, and I got it. Sunshine, blue skies. Everything about the day was gorgeous, it was a perfect wedding, right down to the horse drawn carriage that took me and my now ex-husband to the reception hall. It was a fairytale wedding, I had the princess gown and all.
10 years later we divorced.
And now….now if I were to marry again I pray for one thing.
I pray for rain.
I pray for a warm Southern rain, with a thunderstorm or two. I want the day to be deliciously imperfect. I want the cake to be slightly off, the priest to be late, someone to make a big fuss over something small and insignificant and cause a kufuffel, I want to write my own wedding vows and somehow mess it up.
I want the bottom of my dress to get muddy as I dance in the second-line and jump in puddles with my beloved as we walk to a small intimate restaurant, with those we love most, our toes wet with warm rain, and then sit barefoot to eat not filet mignon, but crawfish etouffee. The kind of etoufee that’s messy, like me, and I dribble It right down onto my dress, because it’s soooooo good, and I’m eating it too quickly. I want music, lots of music…music that isn’t perfect, slightly dissonant. I want the laughter that imperfection brings.
I want imperfection in all its majesty, because…because that’s what real life is. I want someone as imperfect as me to share my life with, someone what understands that a little bit of dissonance creates beautiful music.