Today I am very pleased to have guest blogger Ashley Wyatt sharing with you today! Ashley is the owner/writer of The Cactus Tree. She’s an incredible writer and incredibly open and honest in her stories. Make sure to make your way over there if you need a little mid-week entertainment, you won’t regret it!
No Longer Flying Solo
I did not always want to be married. Some little girls dream of their wedding day, imagining Prince Charming (in all his various forms) sweeping them off their feet. I, on the other hand, remember dressing up as a bride two Halloweens in a row because that was the most frightening thing I could come up with.
I did not come from a broken home, afraid of divorce and leery of men. My parents will have been married thirty one years in July. I always admired that about them. Whenever times got rough, other people’s parents split up, but not mine.
As college wound down, I watched as nearly all of my friends entered into matrimony. Some weddings were huge affairs, gathering hundreds to witness public declarations of love and fidelity. Some brides went to great lengths to attain wedding perfection, right down to the most miniscule of details. Even friends marrying in the back yard, wearing sundresses and wrinkly linen pants, seemed to place all of their life’s energy into this one day. And while I could certainly appreciate the dedication and diligence devoted to these events, I couldn’t appreciate the sentiment.
But, while we drank the same water and even shared our Chapstick, I still wasn’t catching the fever.
“Finally,” I thought, “We’re finished with 8 AM classes and midnight study groups. No longer will we eat Ramen Noodle Soup because we can afford little else. Gone are the days of being told what to do! Surely now is the time to strike out on our own, not become tied down to another obligation! Don’t you know that marriage leads to housework and babies? How terribly mundane!”
Setting out into the world beyond the familiarity of college, a husband was the furthest thing from my mind. From where I sat, alone, in my economy-class airline seat, the world was my stage and the script wasn’t a dialogue; it was a soliloquy. Husbands were an ordeal to be endured rather than a prize to be sought with gusto.
Then one day, when I wasn’t looking, one entered my life. Announcing himself with all the clarity of a ringing bell (or a car alarm, as it felt at the time), he refused to be ignored. He did not hesitate at my need for independence, falter when learning of my goals of travel and great adventures. Friends still joked about my ‘in-domesticity’, but he didn’t budge.
And, now that I’ve got him, oddly enough, I can’t imagine not being his wife. I still balk at the idea of big weddings and certainly still value my freedom as a woman of the world. But the little girl trick-or-treating in a lacy monstrosity of a wedding dress has, unwaveringly, become the blushing bride. My friends and I will probably always disagree on the necessity of a $30,000 party to celebrate it, but the reason behind it? The love? I guess I finally know how they feel.
If you’re interested in more stories like this make sure to make your way over to thecactustree.com.
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