The weather wasn’t going to hold. Although I knew this was Texas, and the weather changes every minute. You just have to wait. The days inched closer. The preparation was done. All we had left was the ceremony. The weather needed to hold.

Four days prior to, the forecast was for rain. We’d bought umbrellas just in case. We were to

marry outside, but under the cover of an open air chapel. It was nestled on the edge of a shallow, but beautiful valley. The trek was long from the room she got ready in. She’d have to wear sandals until it was time to make her final approach. She put her heels on with 50 yards left. But, what of the weather?

Two days prior called for storms the day before and through the night. The end would come early on the morning of our wedding. From there partial clouds and wind. Lots and lots of wind. I began to calm. For myself, but more for her. Please, Weather. Hold.

As sometimes happens, the storms were not nearly as treacherous as predicted. They went around the long way and were over by midnight. This is Texas, however. Please, hold.

The daylight arrived on St. Patrick’s Day 2023. My new blue suit and I made final preparations after she asked me to leave. I was not to see one bit of her dress until the moment she walked down the aisle. The wind was howling in Chapel Dulcinea. The floral arrangements she had made may not stay up. Glass could shatter. Communion elements could topple onto the ground. Wine could go everywhere.

Rocks are handy sometimes. They can hold things down and keep them from falling. Thankfully, there were plenty. The wind blew, but not enough to keep us from this day. This moment.

She walked down the aisle. She smiled at me and I at her. She’s mine now. I am her’s. Forever. The weather held. We will too.