June 20, 1998

June 20, 1998

I woke up to the sound of thunder. Surely that is not what I just heard...but it was. I then heard people hurrying outside my bedroom,something was going on. I dressed in a t-shirt and shorts and ran into the living room. My parents were running outside in search of plastic tarps. The baby grand piano was going to get wet.

Once I stepped outside and saw the black sky and heard the thunder echoing in the Curve-Nankipoo countryside I knew there was no mistaking the truth now - it was raining on my wedding day - the wedding day that was to take place outside in the midst of this cloud covered countryside - and the tears came as hard as the rain drops.

That is one of the most vivid memories of my wedding day. Of course it stopped raining that morning and the summer heat rose out of the black soil with a vengenance like it had been trapped one too many days that June month. 'They are going to hate me,' I thought as I envisioned my groomsmen bundled up in their tuxes standing in the flower gardens during the 6:00 heat spell.

"Oh well. I am the bride!" I'm sure I thought (one too many times). Like when I decided it would be beautiful for my bridesmaids to have different colored pastel dresses just like the flowers in my mom's garden they would be posing in front of as I - the white Lilly (I suppose) marched down the make shift aisle to my husband to be. Those ladies were good sports but hey, isn't that what bridesmaids are there for - to entertain the wild hair brain ideas a bride has to make her wedding the most beautiful event in history?


The wedding was in my parents' yard. And I do not over-exaggerate when I say they started preparing for this day months in advance. My mother's flower gardens were in full bloom, the old wooden shed in the backyard had been torn down to its bare bones and draped with stuff I don't even know the name of in anticipation of the D.J. we had heard so much about (but would never recommend to another poor bride again), lattice work had been spray painted a crisp white and placed cleverly in front of the tractor shed opening to hide my father's 'small farm' equipment. My dad had even built the exact replica of a wedding arch that would be draped with fresh flowers I had seen in Martha's bridal magazine. None of this came without hours of hard labor on our part (or our friends and even family that had just gotten off the plane) We were all out there (actually hours before the wedding started) with the staple gun and glue gun and hammer and nails hanging up lights, baskets of fresh cut flowers, bows, and anything else my mom and her team of lady friends could think of to transform that country home to an oasis of love for party goers all over the county and country! It was to be the party of the summer and no one wanted to miss a chance to see the Weeks' house (and my momma's gardens) as well as all my family and Nate's family had flown and driven in for the reunion.

I'm truly not a high maintenance kind of girl, although I do like my massacre and flat iron, so when it came time to get ready for the big event I simply washed my hair (I had been swimming with my friends and cousins earlier) and pulled my hot rolled curls into a simple pony tail. I put my make-up on alongside my two best girlfriends and my sister then climbed into that Cinderella dress (with some assistance).

Lord, I loved that dress!

All that work...and then the time came. In true Weeks fashion there were stressful tears shed before the actual giving away of the bride - and in true Sarah fashion I had a complete melt down after I had married my true love and hugged about 200 people in that Southern heat of June while wearing a 50 pound dress made up mostly of taffeta and belly sucking satin. Thanks to my Aunt Vicki who stripped me of the weight and threw my naked, crying self into my mother's shower while all of my guests danced the night away on the other side of the house I was forced to get a grip. After cooling off and putting on my "going away dress" I was refreshed and ready to join the party again. And that is what it was - cousins dancing barefoot on the grass and high school friends reuniting and comparing lives as the d.j. played music to appease all ages - mostly my parents - and get the people dancing.

Bellies were filled, families were reunited after years of absence, feet grew sore, and later night parting was planned for the young ones in attendance but then it was time for Nate and I to part into the night and begin our travels as husband and wife.

The canoe was strapped to my Camry and the bouquet was thrown. Our bags made it to the car and we waved good-bye. As we pulled onto highway 51 again the tears flowed but this time in front of my sweet 21 year old partner. I was already missing my parents...I was on my own for real this time...I was grown-up...I was married.

Poor Nate! I did eventually stop crying and I did feel better after we pulled into the hotel and opened up the basket of food we hadn't gotten to eat that night because of all the "socializing" we were expected to do. And then the next day we were off on the adventure of our new life to the Ozark mountains to canoe and hide away in a cabin for a week.

13 years later and I still get a dreamy feeling when I see pictures of Nate and I sitting in my parents' front lawn all dressed up. 13 years later and I still get lightheaded when he holds me and tells me I'm beautiful. 13 years later and I still love this man...more then ever!