July 30

 

"It's time to go," he said, as I watched a smile spread across his face. My heart fluttered and my stomach rolled. I looked into his brown eyes, swallowed hard, and nodded yes. Still nodding yes, I looked at my hands covered in nickel from the slot machines.

 

"Let's wash our hands, " I announced.

With our hands clean we shared a hug, then hand in hand we walked across the casino parking lot to the Little Church of the West.

 

The time 6:20 pm. Inside we heard the organ music play and watched a wedding party of a dozen young people flow out of the church. We stood beside the door not sure of our next move.

A man stepped through the door and turned our direction. "Are you waiting to be married," he asked.

Our heads nodded and finally we replied in unison, "Yes. We are the 6:25 wedding."  

We stepped inside the old wooden church. I glanced at the dark wooden walls and pews. We signed the register and followed a man down the aisle. I imagined my parents walking down this same path thirty seven years earlier. Like us, they had both been married and divorced. They met during the war and four years later mother took the train from Wichita, Kansas to Los Angeles. My father met her at the station and with another couple they drove to Las Vegas and took a daring but happy gamble on a marriage. 

I thought if it worked for them it would work for us. After all, getting married is the easy part.

Then I heard the minister's voice, "Do you, Letty, take Jack to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death you part?"

 I do.

He did.

We have done for thirty eight years. 

Oh, my Goodness. This is the first time in thirty eight years that I noticed the Matthew's name is misspelled. I am sorry Matthew. 

We have raised three healthy, happy, and wise children. We couldn't be prouder, nor happier that we took that gamble thirty eight years ago. 

I love you Jack. 

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