Fourteen years ago this week, my wife and I were wed on a steamy morning in June. The ceremony was at Signal Point park in front of scattered friends and relatives.
I remember Wetherly’s hair was pulled back and braided — the only time before or since I’ve seen it fixed that way — and her smile was as radiant as the sunrise. We didn’t have the money or the desire for a fancy church wedding, small-town practicality being one of our shared traits.
Every year, when our June 22 anniversary rolls around, I try to think back on that day in 1996 and the waves of life changes that have followed. It’s the little things I remember, the day-to-day intimacies that are the brushstrokes of our marriage.
For example:
* I like the way my wife reaches for my hand on our dusk walks in the neighborhood — that cool-skin instant when our fingers knit together perfectly and our 3-year-old son zips by us on his bicycle, calling, “Look, Mommy, I’m super fast!”
* I like the pitch of her voice when she laughs — not high and girlie but a resonant alto that reminds me of her Saturday morning tickle fights with the boys.
* I like the way she staggers to me sleepily in the morning, arms at her side, nudging me for a long hug so she can drift back into half-sleep for an instant.
* I like watching her play solitaire on a laptop computer at 11 p.m. after the boys are in bed, mentally unwinding from another exasperating, exhilarating day as a working mom.
* I like listening to her phone calls with her friends as she rehashes her day in epic detail, as if “a-day-in-the-life-of-the-Kennedy-family” is the funniest story anyone could imagine. I smile along as she talks.
* I like her stern tone — part farm girl, part first-grade teacher — when she insists that a whiny son buck up and “talk like a real boy.”
* I like when she sometimes yields in a spousal disagreement with a simple supplication like, “I need your help.” It reminds me that her character is more refined than mine and that I am still learning to be a good husband.
* I like it when I reach for a clean towel and the stack of linens is tall and warm. The solitary act of doing laundry for three males, day after day, must seem thankless and endless.
* I like it when the house grows quiet at night, all are in bed, and I can lift thanks to the Creator for my wife and sons.
June is the month of weddings. Sometimes when I proofread this Sunday Life section, I linger over the wedding and engagement photos and wonder what good things will follow these new couples.
I would wish them all the charms of a loving spouse, like mine, and endless wedding anniversaries to follow.
If the couples are lucky, sippy cups and pancakes will one day replace champagne and wedding cake; and they’ll hug on some sleepy summer morning and wonder where all the years have gone.