We fell in love riding bikes on frigid, snowy mornings in the middle of winter. We dated for a few months before I moved into his camper with him—no electricity, no running water, and only enough space for a duffel bag of belongings. I went to Japan for a summer and we kept our still-new relationship alive via the weekly email and occasional Skype call which would usually be cut short by my crappy Internet and failing laptop. I came back, to a 120-square-foot shed/cabin that was home for the better part of a year before buying a house. We went through that summer when we were both injured and cooped up and sort of hated each other—but still loved each other. I wasn’t sure we would ever get past that tumultuous period of time, but somehow we worked through it. We learned a lot about each other and how to be a team. We’ve seen the best of each other and the worst of each other. I tell him everything. He makes me laugh when I want to cry, builds me up when I’m tearing myself down, and tries his best to be understanding even when he doesn’t understand. He’s my partner in adventure and life, my best friend, biggest fan, and favorite person in the world. As of a little over a month ago, he’s also my husband.
We had a super simple ceremony at our house with only a few witnesses. Our friend Marci officiated. I didn’t buy a dress—I wore one of the few that I own. Paula got us flowers and champagne. Brent took pictures with a camera in one hand and a beer in the other. Tony came clad in his party shirt. Carissa and Ellis gladly drove down from Centre Hall to take part in our special day. The wedding took 10 minutes at most. We exchanged beers instead of rings. We laughed. We had fun.
We went out for dinner in State College to celebrate. We came home a little tipsy. The next day, we went to work and all was normal.
Because you don’t need a fancy wedding to be happy. You don’t need to spend much money or do elaborate things. All you need is love. And some good people to share it with.