For My Moon (Camren)

For My Moon

I remember it clearly.

From where we are now, I couldn't have predicted that this would've gotten any better. It seemed impossible; How could my life have possibly improved once I was certain that I'd reached my peak? Marrying you was the best agreement I've ever made. I call it a mutual agreement now, because I don't like the confinement of regarding it as a decision. It's more than that. You're more than that. We both could've chosen different paths for ourselves; Different paths, different careers, different people. We've agreed to spend the rest of our lives with each other, for better or for worse. It's one of the few agreements that I will never come to regret.

You're laying beside me. I've memorized your breathing pattern by now, and by your faint snoring, I can tell that you're getting some quality sleep at the moment. You are so beautiful when you sleep, although I've started to miss those eyes. Because I didn't have them to stare into until I'd succumb to sleep myself, I found myself gazing at our wedding picture again. The picture frame was in my hands as I sat up in bed, with you curled comfortably around me.

The picture sits on my bedside table. Due to sentimental value, I like to keep it on my side. Sometimes, I catch you moving it to yours, but it ends up where it belongs at the end of the day. In perhaps my favorite photograph of all time, we are laughing. Nothing can take that moment away from us. There isn't a single thing on this earth that could ruin that day, or that memory in my mind. It's pure joy, and I hear your laugh every time my eyes land on it. We're hugging, laughing, crying. We are happy. The picture captures our frenzy of emotions. My hands and your hands are intertwined and resting on your stomach. I'm nearly attached to your back, and you're leaning into me like I'm your safe haven. I'm laughing into your neck, and you giggled in return on account of how it tickled. It was just enough to rouse a smile out of you, and that was when the picture clicked. It wasn't staged, although we could've been posing. I'm forever indebted to the photographer for capturing that beautiful moment of awe, immortalized.

Because my eyes were well adjusted to the darkness in our room now, I had no problem making out the details of the photo. I was relaxed as I happily relived what could easily be named as the best day of my life. You absentmindedly curled into my side in your sleep, and my heart fluttered just like it did when we were in high school. Delicate fingers weaved through your hair as I set the picture back down on the table. Without referring to our wedding day photo album, I recalled every detail vividly.

{ Flashback }

The altar was gorgeous. I had never been in such an intimidating, yet relaxing pristine setting before. The church was completely vacant. I'd arrived without you, because you'd shooed me away last night almost as soon as we got in from our shared bachelorette party. You claimed that once we got here, I couldn't see you until I was waiting for you at the altar. Maybe my compliance had to do with the fact that we were about to get married, and I couldn't really tell you no. You'd always had your fair share of superstitions anyway.

While I assumed you were on your way, my sister guided me into my own sector of the church where I was to be pampered and prepped for my wedding. Dressed comfortably in my sweats with our wedding dress hanging safely in the far corner, I was guided to sit down in front of a vanity mirror. At that point, I merely went through the motions and was at their mercy when it came to my hair and makeup. My mom and Taylor were having a field day, getting to do everything for me until the hired makeup artist showed up. Her arrival was the least of my concerns.

When she finally got there, she suggested that they occupy themselves elsewhere. My hair was being tugged and combed and curled in every direction, and there were way too many hands in my vicinity. I was being instructed to close my eyes, then to look up, then to close my mouth and purse my lips, then to tilt my head up, then down, then to look at her, then to close my eyes once more. Now that she'd been kicked out of her previous job, Taylor was focusing on giving me the most immaculate manicure she could accomplish, trimming and polishing and touching up my nails all the same. My mom was desperately trying to provide her services, but was really only getting in everyone's way. In short, a lot was going on. We still had about four hours and thirty minutes before it would really happen, and I suppose I was in some form of shock. I was hardly receptive to anything going on. It still hadn't hit me yet that this was becoming a reality today.