Today, April 19th, marks our 19th anniversary. It was my third wedding that occurred 19 years ago this evening, the third and the best.
The first was a train wreck that lasted a tad over five years. The second was not a train wreck, but ultimately, it just did not pan out. There was a five-year hiatus between the first and the second, and then another five-year hiatus between the second and my move to Mexico.
I am fond of five-year breathers.
Excuse the judge’s hand in the photo above. We did not hire a professional photographer, which was an error. We left it in the hands of a friend, who screwed up, so we lack good photos of the evening, which took place in the interior patio of my sister-in-law’s coffee shop in our mountaintop town.
But we do have a few amateurish photos of the event. Not one photo was taken during either of my previous marriage ceremonies. Memories lost. The first wedding happened in the living room of my parents’ upstairs duplex in New Orleans. The second occurred in a Unitarian Church in Houston with no one present but the two of us and the minister.
For fun, here’s a photo we took about a year ago just as the Kung Flu hysteria was cranking up.
We had just passed our 18th anniversary. I don’t wear masks anymore, but she does.
I hope to make it to the 20th anniversary. I’m not as young and spry as I once was. Maybe we’ll do something special. We celebrated our 10th anniversary in Havana, but we’ll not return to that miserable place.
Now let’s pop open the champagne. It’s a great, bubbly, 19-year-old variety.