'TILL DEATH DO US PART

Hope is the thing with feathers. When we get married, some of us more literal than others, even wear them on our gowns, to be reminded.

Here's what I hoped when I got married. I hoped not to get busted.

And here's what, fourteen years ago, my real vows should have said.

Dear Sam I am,
I solemnly swear to let something expire at least once a year; something important, like a green card or a passport, right before a big trip.  I also promise to do anything to get out of cooking dinner; because although I love to eat, I hate the stove. I'm not a great baker either.
I can guarantee you that whatever plant we will ever have, it will die crushed under my black thumb.
And remember that time you told me you saw two ducks setting up nest next to your boat and you commented on how wonderful it was that ducks mate for life?
You thought that was so romantic. I was thinking about "praying mantis" the whole time.
I am not romantic and I don't believe in monogamy (in general). But I have been monogamous with you, and always will be. Should I mention that I often don't make any sense?
I will be stubborn and defensive, hope you find a way around that.
I will fall asleep every time I touch the bed; don't even try to wake me up, it won't work.

Once we will have kids they will come before you. If it consoles you though, you will come before me. I will be a hard nut to crack, but if anybody has a chance at it, that's you.
Now, if you still want to go on with this, you may kiss the bride.
Love,
Me.



Picture by Aurora Meneghello Photography.