The night before my wedding

I’m listening to bluegrass music and drinking a small glass of whiskey. Girlfriend, soon to be wife, is out for a walk with E. She has more sense and therefore more stress than I. The walk with E will calm her. This time tomorrow we'll be in a black car heading south to the airport.

Getting married is this thing that I always wanted, but could never imagine happening. A few months ago I asked the woman I love, “Will you marry me?” She said yes, and tomorrow we will be married and she will be my wife and I her husband. To sit here and know that I want nothing more than to be married at the end of the day and for the rest of my life is the most calming feeling I’ve experienced. Seldom are things this clear. Rarely do I know precisely what I want. Even less frequently do I experience absolute fulfillment. I love her. I love her now. I’ll love her forever.

This is the beginning of the longest part of my life. When I close my eyes I see the years to come stretched before me. The years are like a map holding all the possibilities that I sought as a kid when I spent hours pouring over road atlases spread across the kitchen table dreaming of the day I’d leave home. Even though I left home years ago and followed the lines on the maps across this country and then across several others, tonight I feel the greatest excitement. Tonight I am happy before leaving home and tomorrow will be an explosion of ecstasy. I can't wait to enjoy every minute of it.