'Twas ten years ago today that Paul Dunn and I went to see the X Files movie. I was a nervous wreck, not because I was worried about whether Mulder would be killed by the alien virus in the Antarctic, but rather because I couldn't wait for the following day, my wedding day. It's been ten years tomorrow since Mickelle and I were married in the St. George, Utah Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. That's a long time, but it really has flown by, in the sense that the days are long, but the weeks, months, and years are short.
As she sits in our house gestating our third child, I am reminded of the excitement of that day, of how I couldn't wait to be married. While part of my anxiousness was a powerful anticipation of more purient interests, the main reason was that I could finally hang out, non stop, with my best friend. She was a vision of loveliness as we had our wedding photographs taken, as I sweated to death in a black tuxedo in the late-June St. George sun. Paul, my best man, rescued me with some timely Coca-cola from Arby's, otherwise I might not've made it to the ceremony.
After the wedding, we had a luncheon for close family and friends, and we were done with all formalities and festivities by 4:30PM. We had to go and scrape the decorative paint off my car before the 100-degree heat baked the paint permanently into the finish (nevermind the myriad scratches the assailants caused, poor Bob Marley), and then we checked into the Abbey Inn. The next morning, we got up, drove the Slat Lake City and caught a plane to Atlanta, and then San Jose, Costa Rica for our honeymoon. We were there nine days, then we came back and stayed in Georgia for longabout a week. Finally, we went to St. George for a few days. Then life came back to reality; we were married, we had to work and study, but we were togther, in the same town, same roof, same bed.
June 20, 1998 was the best day of my life, and always will be.
I love you Mickelle Fonnesbeck!