Love at 48

I believe in a big wedding at any age – especially mine.

The man marrying me next Saturday is the man of my dreams and he is worth the wait.

Though my life before him hasn’t really been a wait. It’s been pretty action packed for a life without a spouse. I’ve worked as a newspaper reporter, a hospital PR person, a creative writing teacher … traveled widely, even lived a year abroad. I’ve boarded plenty trains alone. And yes, in all my adventures, I’ve kissed my share of frogs. Yet I’ve also acquired a rare and colorful collection of friends I love and trust … my life’s been rich so far.

I am 48 years old, not a young bride to be. At the post office, when I was buying stamps for our wedding invitations, the middle-aged woman in front of me looked at my big box of ivory envelopes and asked, “Is your daughter getting married?” When I shook my head, she asked “is this your second marriage?” Nope, I said, my first.

There just hasn’t been anyone like Kent before. When the remote control on my dad’s reclining chair broke, Kent was the one who spent a hot summer afternoon finding a way to fix it. My once boisterous Pop had had a stroke, and Kent knew the chair meant a lot to this man who hated lying in a bed all day and being disconnected from the world. I’ve never met anyone so aware of what matters to others and to me.

Some say an older bride should not wear a wedding gown and that a suit would do. And yet I’m breaking rules. I can’t wait to hear the satin swish around the floor when my groom and I dance to Moon River, our song. We will hold each other tight.

The time it has taken to meet the man I’m marrying is time I probably needed to learn, as Forest Gump would say, what love is. And for me, it is that feeling that someone loves you as much as you love them. And so we’ll celebrate this big, beautiful moment in our lives and joy will rule the summer night.

I believe in true love at any age. It tastes as good as butter cream icing and champagne.