Saturday, 22th March 2008. I haven’t slept much last night, too busy chatting with my maid of honor. I woke up early to get rid of those itching hair curlers and have my hair done. I’m at the town hall with my father, one of my brothers and my maid of honor. Yann comes down the stairs with two friends who’ve just arrived by train. I’m happy to see him (I don’t care much for the fact that he sees my wedding dress now). For once, it’s the future bride and groom who are early and the guests who are late. Then the wedding, a few pictures in front of the town hall and the little catholic church across the square. In Belgium ‘church wedding’ is only a symbol, the minister has no legal authority to wed anybody (unlike in the UK or US). Nevertheless people often mistake wedding with the religious ceremony which is more festive. We wanted our friends to witness our wedding, so we invited them at town hall and then left for the wedding ceremony in the little Protestant church that would be our local church for te next three years. While everybody is going to church, we ask both our fathers (yep, no official photographer neither) to take ‘wedding pictures’ of us in the park nearby. It’s freezing cold, but sunny. It’s a lovely service (in which we have had our say) and the verse of the day is Psalm 127:1. Refreshments and appetizers are offered to the guests while a team of stong men is moving the heavy oak benches to get room for lunch in the main room. It’s a buffet. My maid of honor and I have prepared a lot of food the day before (my poor grandmother wasn’t allowed to enter her kitchen for many hours) as well as other members of the congregation. True, that isn’t gourmet food, but when you’re 22 and 24, you’re craving for authenticity. And that’s who we were back then: Young and willing to simply share our joy with our friends. We have ordered a pièce montée and cakes at the local bakery shop and they are delicious. In the evening, we dance on well-known hits (played from my laptop) in the church’s main room, after removing some of those heavy benches. We leave at 9 o’clock and everybody gives a hand to put everything back together for the Easter service the day after.
Fun fact is that some members of Yann’s family got (really) lost on their way back to their lodging and Yann was at that moment the only one available to help them. So he went with his father and I had no husband to dance with after the first dance. Among all particularities of our wedding, this is one we are particularly fond of.
Thursday, 22th March 2018. I haven’t slept much, partly because Logan has been fussing in his sleep. I prepare the kid’s lunch box and send them to school with Yann who has taken the day off. We share a cup of coffee with a neighbour, than Logan goes to bed. We’ve decided to spend the day together, no special event is planned, except a night out at one of our favorite restaurants in the evening. We exchange gifts – made out of tin – that we instantly love. Well, that’s it. 10 years… and counting!