On November 20th of last year, M and I were wed. A cool, grey day. My sisters were our witnesses, my brother-in-law, A, our best man.
M married me with the gold ring with which my father had wed my mother, over sixty years ago. I had worn it on my right hand since my 21st birthday, when my mother had presented it to me.
Now, it pleases me to gaze down at my left hand, where the band has been lovingly placed, and to ponder that serious and somehow ennobling estate; that of marriage.
For we did not enter into it lightly. It was the events of much earlier in the year, when M had almost lost his life to Covid 19, that sparked the thought and the desire, and caused us to reflect solemnly upon the manner in which we lived our lives. We had been living together for seventeen years, and had surmounted different hurdles and obstacles, both had been bereaved of our fathers, M had lost two of his brothers. We had had to leave Garston's Lodge, the cottage in which we forged the early bonds of our relationship, and to which we would return tomorrow if the opportunity was present.
It seemed that our relationship had stood the test of time, and we both, as one, came to the realisation that we would like to formalise the arrangement. And so we were wedded one to the other, vows were taken , a reading from 'The Velveteen Rabbit', was made and we were pronounced husband and wife. Our tiny audience clapped their hands, and my sisters duly signed the register, the memory of their smiling faces remains with me to this day.
Afterwards, emerging into the calm Autumn air, a touch of dampness about it, we stood in the local churchyard for photographs and repaired to the town's bookshop cafe for cups of fragrant, scalding coffee.
My sister prepared a celebratory lunch, and we gathered as one about a laden table. Cake and a toast with sparkling wine followed, sated guests left us to a quiet evening, listening to music and reflecting upon a day that somehow had lifted us beyond the reach of everyday life, had cast us in new and profound guise, had been sanctified by the loving attentions of kin, and had embedded itself in our minds as precious, everlasting memory.
