I really should be packing, but after packing, unpacking, and repacking this past weekend, I'm going to take a break before finishing up our honeymoon packing. Besides, V has done most of it. You know, my wonderful wifey.
Being married is incredible. The day of, even after the ceremony, we didn't feel different at all. Very happy, and excited, but not particularly different. But now there is something. Maybe it's just having made that public proclamation; maybe it's getting used to a different ring. (In the previous post, mine's the sapphire ring and hers has the little diamonds.) I'm a fan of this feeling.
The place we got married recognizes our marriage, obviously. So do some of the surrounding locations. The place we live does not, and neither does the place we're about to fly to for our honeymoon. It's an interesting game of "now you're married, now you're not." I was worried when we crossed the state line from an accepting state to a non-accepting one that I would feel sad, or that the weekend had been pointless. I couldn't be further from the truth.
No state government can tell me I'm not married. Sure, they can make me do my taxes by myself, and try to list me as single, but I'm married now. In my eyes, in V's eyes, in our friends' eyes, in God's eyes, and in the eyes of some smart people in government. This weekend was the farthest from pointless imaginable. It was pointed, poignant, and perfect.
Hello world. I'm married.