It is odd to say that as a writer, I am a person of few words. Or rather I choose my words in a very Joycean way - thinking much too hard to make sure the message is conveyed exactly the way it is supposed to be. (Note: I actually loathe Joyce with a passion.)
So when it came to our wedding my husband had asked me to say a few words at the reception. I never thought too much of it, waiting for my stream-of-consciousness to come up with something in my stead. Even the day before there was nothing. A good friend told me to just think about the very anatomical structure of our relationship - especially since I cannot be as extensively expressive as him.
Also, I shouldn't "wing it" when it came to an event like this. Very faux pas. Even for me.
I knew I only had one thought that was short and simple. As well as something I tell him now and again in jest.
Yet in the end I only mouthed an the unaudible "Thank You" because my voice simply could not work when I wanted that day.
Tears are like a yawn - once you do, everyone does and it's simply a wreck of a moment.
So instead I'll tell you two months from then.
As a child I had once told myself I would meet the person I would marry in college. It's strange how that came true. When I met you I saw something in you. Even when you were erasing Gundamnium from a periodic table all those years ago.
I saw that you would go very far with whatever you did.
And I wanted to be there to see it when you did.
You have gone incredibly far indeed.
And I'm glad that I will always be there to witness whatever you still have left to do.
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