We got married. It was lovely.
If I were someone who gushed, I would tell you how fantastically perfect the day was. I would tell you how I giggled madly in the days leading up to The Day and would spontaneously fling my arms around Archie's neck and squeal, "We're getting married this week!" I would tell you how Archie walked into the living room the morning before we got married and saw me petting the dog* and bawling. "What's wrong?" he asked, and I sobbed, "I just love you so much and I'm so excited to get married to you!!" I would tell you about my dress and how I spun in circles and giggled when I tried it on. I would tell you about the pink tea roses in my bouquet and how perfectly they matched the shrug I wore over my dress. I would tell you about my rings: the Tiffany solitare that Archie gave me and the platinum and diamond wedding band that was my great-grandmother's.
I would tell you how handsome Archie looked and how, looking into his eyes as we were declared man and wife, I could've sworn my feet lifted off the ground for a split second.
I would tell you all this and more if, you know, I were someone who gushed. Which I'm not.
*Did I tell you we got a dog? Well, we got a dog. It's cool.