So Much Has Happened, But We're Not Canceling... Yet

When the sales consultant lets you leave with your dress even though in spite of being the size you ordered, they can't zip it (December). . .

When your Mexico-resident aunt subtly accuses you of homophobia because she didn't look on the back of the save-the-date where you included your cousin and his partner (because you don't have their address/January)

When the invitation printing is a four-week process during which the printer moves office locations (February). . .

When you hurt your back hauling a set of dishes (bridal shower gift mailed to you) and then make it worse hauling more stuff from your bridal shower (February again)

When your future sister-in-law gets a huge tattoo on her shoulder that's gonna look interesting peeking out from the sleeve of the pretty dress  you all picked out together (yeah, February, 10th anniversary of her and Jay's dad's passing). . .

When the priest who was going to celebrate your wedding backs out via voicemail (yup, February!) . . .

When you're trying to sign a lease for your new apartment and you find out the leasing manager left (last week). . . 

When there's a virus shutting down your school for two weeks and you spent every day the week before listening to nothing but virus dread in the faculty lunchroom and wonder if people just won't come to the wedding (March). . .


Well, you try to do what you can.

You go back to the bridal shop and let the owner--who never, ever would've let you leave unhappy like that except she had been away--reassure you that while she can't get a new dress shipped (hello, factories shut down by virus), she knows an amazing seamstress who can fix it.  This week, I went for my second fitting and finally smiled when I put on the dress.

You reassure your aunt that everyone's going to be invited--and you email scanned versions of the invitation because UPS wants an outrageous amount of money and still can't guarantee they'd arrive intact.

You have invitation-assembly-parties/dates two nights this week and get the invitations out in the mail. Teamwork makes the dream work!

You follow the chiropractor's instructions to the letter and hide a back brace under your shirt.  I'm finally not hurting super badly every day.

You meet with the new pastor of the parish where you're getting married and assure him you're serious about this as you whip out all the necessary paperwork, to his surprise and relief.  (Still down to the wire--or is it?--filing with the archdiocese AND getting permission from the Eparchy of Passaic to go against the tradition of marrying in the groom's parish.)

You keep going back to the leasing office until someone gives you answers and a link to your new lease to sign.

You wipe your face after crying upon hearing first thing on your clock radio's news station that the CDC is recommending 8 weeks with no large gatherings and get out of bed anyway.  

You tell yourself that two weeks at home will be nothing but a gift of time.  Time to finish 600 report cards on a system you're using for the first time, and time to get ready for moving.

Time to get ready for your new lives together. Whenever that will be.