Thirteen years ago today I was standing in the living room of the small house I rented in Midtown in nothing but my underwear and a starched, white shirt. It was hot and I was putting on the first suit I’d ever owned one layer at a time, standing in front of a straining window air unit. The suit was wool. I was 23. It was my wedding day.
Kristy and I were married in Fisher Gardens on the Rhodes College campus where I’d attended her graduation from that school not a month before. Our reception was held in the room above Zinnie’s East and we spent the night at the Crowne Plaza, now the Marriott, in downtown Memphis. The next morning, wedding loot in hand, we took a train to New Orleans, spent a few days eating and drinking there; flew to Miami to lay on the beach for a few more days; then back to New Orleans to catch the train home.
We arrived home with $8 in cash to a house full of wedding gifts, a Great Dane and a Weimaraner. Kristy and I have moved houses and locations several times over the years, each time filling our home with more things – books, furniture, art, dishes and, of course, children. We’ve also filled each house with enough love to keep us going for 13 years, and for many more to come.
Happy Anniversary, Kristy. I love you.