Tickets are purchased. Photographer is booked. His suit and my dress are at the tailor. It looks like we have a wedding on our hands. And while I know I am marrying my best friend, one of my biggest supporters and the most patient, kind-hearted man around, getting me to our wedding day is not an easy thing.
When Jared first met me, I had just discovered this new freedom. I could do whatever the heck I wanted. I had done the whole marriage thing before and in the end, he left. So when Jared and I met, by golly, I wasn't sacrificing for anyone! I was moving to New York City. I was going to get my graduate degree. I was going to get baby blue sheets and a white duvet because guess what? No one can tell me not to.
And Jared, ever so lovingly, stepped aside so that I could live up my "Amy" years. He cheered me on as I worked in school. He hung trellis curtains in my apartment. He helped pick up my Ikea gold-bordered mirror in Brooklyn. The man took a job in Manhattan with hope that the "Amy" years would eventually turn into the "Amy and Jared" lifetime.
As I approached graduation last December, I knew that Jared would soon ask me to marry him. We had discussed it at length and I knew it was what was next for me, that these much-needed personal learning years would soon transition. I so look forward to our future together. But my goodness, it is sometimes so hard to approach marriage again. If you pet a dog and get bit, you often think to never touch a a dog again. But now, I consistently have to remind myself that it's okay to reach out, to try again. That this one isn't going to bite.
And that? That is not an easy thing.
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