Vows.

Tonight was the first time I thought about the writing of vows. As I’m sitting here at my kitchen table, 1,600 miles away from home, with my dogs running around in circles about me, I’m overwhelmed by the love I have for my Grant and the responsibility the writing of one’s vows is weighted by. The traditional vows of marriage, I’ve heard what feels like a million times before, but never have they meant what they mean now. I, a very flawed human being, am getting ready to promise myself to another flawed human being, for the rest of my life. It’s a promise to love even when we’re not pretty, kind, healthy or happy as much as it’s a promise to to love at the most joyous moments anyone could ask for. It’s a commitment to put each other’s needs above our own, even when we don’t want to and to deny my right to think selfishly. Not only will I be vowing myself to him though, he’ll be promising me the same. He’ll take me, all of my bullshit and all of my moods, along with all of my smiles. That’s an overwhelming thought and yet, I’ve never been so excited by something so scary in my life. I’ve lived in the fear of rejection for so much of my life and with this person, there’s not only a lack of all fear, there’s the joy and comfort of knowing how right he is for me and that he picked me to love in this way. For the next 229 days, I’ll be contemplating the beauty of the vows we will make and will be counting down until the day I can say them out loud, solidifying my future as Grant’s wife.