On June 15, 1996-ten years ago- I walked down the aisle to "Going to the Chapel," and made Kip Veasey my husband. We walked out to "I Got You Babe." The reception was held in my parent's backyard, decorated with balloons, with a wooden dance floor laid out in front of the gazebo my father had built. It was a hundred degrees, but we square danced the afternoon away. It was a sweaty, deliriously happy, beautiful day --it was the days of wine and daisies.
I was introduced to Kip by my best friend from high school, who had met Kip's friend from high school during a layover in an airport somewhere while both were traveling to different exotic destinations. The two friends shared a cocktail in an airport lounge and told each other if they each happened at any point to be in New York, that they would connect for dinner. When that actually occurred, each felt the need to bring along a friend.
I recognized Kip from the moment I saw him, as the man I had been dreaming about since I was a little girl. I handed him the keys to my apartment three days later. I abandoned all pretenses at game playing and coyness- and I threw myself bravely into love, confident that he would catch me. I did not need him to take care of me. I did not need him to fulfill me. But he did both those things for me anyway.
He proposed on a rainy New Year's eve. He rushed me out of the house, not saying where we were going, and I whined and cursed at him for not giving me enough time to get my mascara on, or fix my hair just so. We took at cab to the Museum, where we found we had arrived too late, and the Temple of Dendor was closed. So he pulled me in the rain up the grassy embankment outside the windows to that mystical place, while my high heels (which were velvet) sunk inches into the muddy ground. And because it was drizzling, I couldn't tell what was sweat, and what was tears ,and what was rain-but it was a wet proposal. And then he turned white as a sheet.
Kip lay for hours on the couch after throwing up-our dinner plans abandoned-while I called every family member, every friend, to squeal "Guess what? I'm ENGAGED!"
Ten years have passed in a blur. Some memories are stronger than others; there is Kip, staying up with me all night to unload pots from a kiln, to build a store, to change a window. There is Kip ever patient with me, as I learn to negotiate social situations that prior to marrying him I would avoid. (Like shaking hands with government officials. Not my thing-but I did it.) There is his face the day we found out we were pregnant with Jesse: sheer disbelief and fright, mixed with wonder. There is Kip at 2 a.m. bringing me a bottle while the baby is screaming and I am yelling at him even louder; "Just bring me a damn bottle!" There is Kip crying with me in relief and joy to find out we would have a healthy little girl. And in every memory I am reminded of his basic goodness, his kindness and strength, his capacity for love and his ability to give. He is such a good, good man.
Happy Anniversary to my best friend, my partner in all I do, my soul mate. XO
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