26

Dear Brad,

Remember that phone call the night before? We said goodbye and knew in the morning we would be together forevermore.

Remember picking me and my mom up that morning? We were so proud of our burgundy 1984 Honda Accord hatchback with mirrored side panels, and my mom climbed willingly into the cramped back seat.

Remember forgetting your tux? Lucky for us, your mom hadn't left her house yet.

Remember the altar and the mirrors and the family and the promises? The sealer said he knew that we were meant to be together.

Remember dancing on the temple lawn through intermittent raindrops? Even a term's worth of social dance couldn't help us much, but the videographer made it look pretty good, despite our stilted movements.

Remember my dad warning us that "a visitor from Pennsylvania" had shown up for the luncheon? My bearded and pony-tailed uncle Steve swooped first me and then you off our feet in bear hugs. Remember his advice that fell on deaf ears?

Remember two receptions a day apart? Thirteen cookie sheets and only one plate from our registry. Remember using our ZCMI credit to buy the entire set of china after we had returned twelve cookie sheets and other random gifts?

Remember accidentally throwing away our marriage certificate because the car was filled with newspapers and balloons at our reception? I will never forget watching you dig through the church's dumpster, avoiding wedding cake slimed up with lime sherbet frappe, and hoping our precious piece of paper had avoided it as well.

Remember how I convinced you that we didn't need a reservation at a hotel in Twin Falls, because "nothing ever happens there" but that this weekend was the Burley Boat Regatta and every hotel was completely full? I will never forget walking in my parents' front door at 12:30 am with no place to sleep and how quickly my mom volunteered her room and her bed for our second night as a married couple. She slept in the camper with Dad, and we both knew what a sacrifice that was for her.

Remember Lagoon and Batman and Dead Poets' Society? I knew then how much you liked movies but I didn't know how much you hate amusement parks. That was your first of innumerable small sacrifices you've made for me.

26 years.

So many memories. Love you.