Jude Christopher Brahm,
I remember when I was six and my grandmother told me that there was no prince charming, and that love was all blood, sweat, and tears.
I was far too young for the knowledge of that reality. I believed too much of what I saw in the princes, I believed too much chivalry, I believed too much perfect manliness.
That is, until I met you.
I'm sad that my grandmother never got to meet you, because if she had seen you at our wedding, she would have taken everything back that she told me that day over cookies and milk.
(But perhaps I'm just too biased. Maybe.)
~ ~ ~
Do you remember the song that was playing all of that day? No, no you wouldn't... but I had it on repeat in my head all day.
At last...
I watched my mother in the mirror as she strategically pinned it up, a piece here, a piece there. A loose curl here, a tight touch-up there.
"Are you excited?" my aunt asked, resting a hand on my shoulder.
I smiled, and after a moment, nodded.
The decision of a "when" for our wedding wasn't nearly as much of a shock that I thought it would be. You brought it up one day, casually, and we settled on a date, which was two weeks away. We told your parents when it was only one week away. (Even though my parents knew about the impending wedding only hours after we did.)
"And we all know that he is," my cousin chuckled, fanning herself. "That bunch of roses he sent over leaves us with no doubts--Jude is very excited."
I probably blushed, but Mom's hands running through my hair kept my shoulders relaxed.
Those people. My family. My mortification.
I wished I could find you and hide with you until it was all over.
At last...
Mom was done with my hair soon after, and my aunt started on my makeup.
It was only two. I had four hours until I wouldn't have to face these people by myself anymore.
. . .
My dress was on. My hair was done. My makeup was touched and retouched until I was sure that I would look nothing like myself. (Though Mom assured me I looked beautiful.)
"Fifteen minutes, Miss Blaire," Mom hummed happily, giving me a smile.
At last...
I returned the smile, even though the thought sent my heart into a mess of fluttering nonsense.
"Fifteen minutes," I agreed, looking over at Daddy. He smiled at me, too.
He was all dressed to give me away, but I could see it in his eyes that the thought didn't rest easy with him. His smiles were too bright, his hand too shaky.
I didn't mention it, though. I only stepped a bit closer and hugged him.
"You're going to be someone else's girl in a few minutes, Sweetheart."
"I'll always be your girl," I said softly. "And soon, I'll always be his woman."
"I love you. And if anything ever happens, my home is your home," Dad said..
"I love you, too. But don't worry. He loves me."
"I know he does."
I looked up at him, and tears filled my eyes at the sight of the tears in his.
"Now we'd better shape up before we spoil your makeup," he laughed softly, wiping around his eyes. "There's no time."
The music had already started playing.
The door in front of us opened, and we stepped out into the main sanctuary of the church.
There weren't many people there to see us married, but as soon as we locked eyes from each end of the aisle, it was as if there were none at all.
At last...
The music was loud and beautiful.
My love has come along...
You smiled, and the warmth in it put every nervous thought to flight.
My lonely days are over...
The closer I got to you, the stronger the pull was. The more I wanted to be caught up in your arms, the more I wanted to belong to you, the more certain I was of the fact that you were the right choice.
And life is like a song...
After kissing my cheek, Dad gave my hand to you, and stepped away as the music quieted enough for the minister's voice to be heard clearly.
"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the joining of Aurora Blaire Fisher and Jude Christopher Brahm in marriage. With love and commitment, they have decided to live their lives together as husband and wife.
"Aurora and Jude, remember to treat yourselves and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together. Take responsibility for making the other feel safe, and give the highest priority to the tenderness, gentleness and kindness that your connection deserves. When frustration, difficulty and fear assail your relationship, as they threaten all relationships at some time or another, remember to focus on what is right between you, not just the part that seems wrong. In this way, you can survive the times when clouds drift across the face of the sun in your lives, remembering that, just because you may lose sight of it for a moment, does not mean the sun has gone away. And, if each of you takes responsibility for the quality of your life together, it will be marked by abundance and delight."
He smiled at both of us, and I looked across at you.
"Jude, do you take Aurora to be your wife?"
You were smiling like you had found the most wonderful thing and could call it your own.
"I do, and more.
"Aurora, I promise to love you. I promise to provide for you, to protect you, to take care of you. You are my adventure, and I hope that I can always bring you joy when you're sad, hope when you're despairing, and amusement when you're bored. I have made it my goal in life to help you live yours, so today I promise to keep you always, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse. You will never be 'just' Aurora to me; from here on out you will be my one and only, my wife."
I'm sure you remember that I was crying. My prepared composure hadn't accounted for the vows. It hadn't accounted for your adorable grin or the look in your gray eyes that whispered sweet, sweet things to my soul.
I didn't often underestimate you, but I'll admit now that I did then.
"Aurora, do you take Jude to be your husband?"
"I do.
"And Jude, I promise not to take your love for granted. I promise to confide in you, to work hard to never lose sight of what really matters. I can't wait to be your permanent best friend, to get to talk to you every night before I fall asleep, to get to kiss you before you go to work. You're my adventure, too, and I love you so much."
You pulled me into a hug as the minister smiled at both of us, and I sobbed into your shirt. It was all your arms could do to hold me together.
"With this ring, I thee wed," you said softly, and I gave you my hand. I gave you my heart. I gave you my life.
I wiped my eyes, reined in my sobbing lungs, and took my own ring for you from the minister.
"With this ring, I thee wed."
The minister gave everyone a short speech about the rings, but I wasn't paying much attention to his words.
You were wiping my tears away, and I was letting you, and I was pretending that there was no one watching.
"Jude, you may kiss your bride."
And you did.
. . .
We danced for what felt like all night.
We each got a face-full of cake, and there were more kisses than I knew what to do with. And you were so sweet.
Everyone was happy.
It was a fairytale.
I only started feeling uncertain as we walked down the hall of the hotel toward our room, and it started to feel overly warm.
"Are you okay?" you asked, stopping, searching my eyes. "Nervous?"
"A little," I said, chuckling. "I've never been with anybody before."
"I'm not anybody. Just Jude. Keep that in mind?" you said, chuckling and shrugging like that made it all better.
And I suppose it did. I was not afraid of you.
I followed you into that room, fingers entwined with yours, eyes trained on you.
And while I was nervous about you seeing my body, I was not afraid of you. I was afraid of myself.
You kissed my fears into oblivion. You unlocked my heart and threw away the key.
I shivered when your fingers began unbuttoning the back of the dress, and then it fell away and I was vulnerable.
But you only smiled and kissed my bare shoulder and called me resplendent.
I couldn't catch my breath by the time your shirt joined the dress.
You stopped to check on me. "How are you doing?"
"I'm wonderful," I murmured, and pulled your head back down to kiss you.
You took it slow, and I know that was because you were just as inexperienced as I was. But it was beautiful. Even in the uncertainty, I was happy, because it meant one thing, and that thing was something that I adored.
Your inexperience meant I would never be compared to anyone else. It meant that you were mine and only mine.
And that singular intimacy was precious to me.
"I love you," you whispered.
I found myself lost in you, hands entrapped in your hair, legs tangled with your legs, lips locked with your lips.
And when I heard your heart racing, I knew you were lost, too.
. . .
It was past midnight when I found myself dozing on your chest, listening to your heart pound.
I thought you were asleep, but when I kissed you, you opened your eyes.
"I love you," I whispered.
You held me closer.
Night embraced us both.
~ ~ ~
Do you remember that night as clearly as I do?
I had never known anything to be compared to being with you. I still don't.
And I still love you. Please wake up.
For yourself. For me. For your parents, and for my parents.
I love you.
Sincerely,
Aurora, your wife, your partner-in-crime, your adventure, your best friend, your lover, your one and only, your Aurora.
P.S. I love you to Polaris and back.