I just got off the phone with my mom. We talked about how strange this whole marriage thing is. Well, I talked, I think she was just hoping I wasn’t backing out. She said how I’ve had such a long time to get used to the idea that it shouldn’t seem so weird. My response was that even though we’ve been engaged for fifteen months, the day has never been as close as it is right now, and as we approach the day itself, there are more new feelings that come up. I couldn’t know six, or even two, months ago how I would feel sitting here tonight. Assembling ceremony programs while watching The Gilmore Girls, it’s all becoming more real with every passing hour. Not that I don’t want to marry James. I do, and I would marry him a thousand times. It’s just that “Oh my God, I’m actually getting married” feeling. I wonder how my family really feels. I wonder how James really feels (aside from that whole being madly in love with me part). I wonder what it will actually be like to be a wife and have a husband. What will change? What will stay the same? I’m excited to find out, but at the same time, I’ve always had a difficult relationship with change.
I tend to hesitate. Or at least I used to. I have many fears that have settled to the bottom of my psyche since moving to Boston my sophomore year of college. I had never been to Boston before, but I wasn’t happy where I was. So one day, Ben said, “Do something about it.” So I did. Since taking that giant blind leap, I’ve felt more confident in my choices and paths in life. But every so often, that scared little girl comes up to say hello, and I find myself shaking just a little, looking for that one toy or stuffed animal that can help me get to sleep at night and stay a kid forever.
All my life, I’ve had this Peter Pan complex. I wasn’t going to grow up. Even when I did, I still didn’t think I’d have to. I wanted to keep my innocence, my child-like enthusiasm, clothes that I’d long since outgrown. I know that part of me will always remain childlike and youthful, but I have to admit, I’m growing up. No, that’s not right. I am a grown-up. Marriage is what I want, and if I was still a kid, I wouldn’t want to be a wife. Or, I’d want to be a wife, but only until the urge passed and I could be a princess or a moose again.
Honestly, I haven’t been innocent for a long time, and I have to admit that I like knowing certain things about life and about the world around me. I like being an adult. It’s just hard sometimes to watch that girl fade. Even if she is a scared little crybaby sometimes.
Hey! I’m getting freaking married!!!
(Every time that thought hits me out of the blueness of my mind, I get this ridiculous grin on my face, so I know that everything will be okay.)