Today is our wedding anniversary. Our tenth. Apparently the traditional gift is aluminum/tin. So perhaps my husband and I will buy each other a can of Coke.
We’re not into gifts. We didn’t buy each other wedding gifts; we don’t buy each other anniversary presents. Last weekend, though, we went out for dinner without kids. And we had plenty to talk about. This is, perhaps, the best of gifts.
We don’t like ceremony.
Photo courtesy of Baldur (cc) Flickr
I insisted on not having an engagement ring. I don’t like the ownership implications and I despise wearing rings (neither of us wears our wedding bands). When I searched for a wedding dress, my foremost instruction to the bridal people was that the dress “fall flat on the ground when I drop it.” Don’t ask.
And I love not standing on ceremony. Our wedding was fun. It was one big farm party under a big white tent with kids and adults and a jumpy castle.
I tossed my bouquet from our combine.
We had eleven varieties of mosquito repellent. We had identical twin pastors doing the hula hoop. We had cousins Ukranian dancing. We had aunts and uncles fox-trotting. We had giveaways from our round-the-world travels. We had the small town liquor store on after-hours-stand-by. We had RVs. We had outhouses. We had people celebrating when the sun came up.
When a cracker of a thunder storm dumped monsoon-style rain on us, my dad said, “Don’t worry. We’re all staying. We have enough tractors to pull every car out when the party’s over.”
And, the party ain’t over yet.