“And your plague policy is…?” With just about three months to go, we find ourselves asking that question more and more often. Not a question I ever anticipated coming out of my mouth. Certainly didn’t expect to utter it behind a mask (a really cute mask, but that’s beside the point). NEVER thought I’d ask the question in regards to my wedding. (Thanks a lot 2020)
In case you couldn’t tell, I’m organized. (Yes, I realize that word isn’t strong enough, but I’ve yet to encounter a word that encapsulates my actual state of mind) I read through every word of my wedding planner, which I bought the same week I got engaged. There weren’t enough tabs to my liking, so I added more (if you can’t find something in the binder, you’re not looking). My Pinterest boards are carefully broken down into every aspect of the wedding. I have white board calendars for tracking appointments, with additional color-coded check boxes for what needs accomplishing. The calendars went up a year prior to the wedding date.
Someone forgot to tell me to plan for PLAGUES.
In all of the advisories, warnings, and extra suggestions, nowhere does it mention pandemics. COVID-19 threw off my schedule, prompted an insert for the invitations, caused me to orchestra Plans B-Z (just in case), and led us to cancel our honeymoon (for the time being). We inserted that plague question into our interviews (once the state reopened and interviews were possible yet again). We recognized that our already small wedding might dwindle to just family. And we learned gratitude for every small business that smiled, laughed, and assured us they understood.
No one expects the plague.
Before, getting my fiance’s suit wouldn’t have been a problem. Now, setting foot in the mall took grit, nerves, and a lot of hand sanitizer. Neither of us have done so in MONTHS. We know people don’t listen to the state order for masks. We have no idea what people do on their own time, if they follow social distancing or not. The number of cases in our area is climbing. Even avoiding the mall proper and sticking to the store in question didn’t make us feel safe. But the suit wasn’t going to buy itself. Something that was supposed to be fun and involve laughter felt akin to a military operation.
(Mission accomplished, by the way)
I watch the days trickle away. I should be excited, and some days I am. Other days, I want to hide. I re-read the inset I wrote for the invitation and imagine everyone declining to attend. I fret over coordinating so many Zoom attendees. I look at the bins under the bed in the guest room, filled with favors and table decorations, and my depression asks why I bothered (not that they’re returnable at this point). I open my binder and look at the confirmed cancellation of our honeymoon cruise.
This virus stole away the joy from the event.
Then I remind myself that the wedding is STILL happening. I’m still marrying the most important person in my life. That cruise will happen eventually. I flip through my list of music to play throughout the ceremony and reception. I think about the beautiful cake and the thought I put into the decorations. I look at the pattern for my dress and all of the accessories. I glance through the images of the beach house and remind myself our families will be there.
What else do I need?
Yeah, COVID-19 sucks. It’s ruined a lot of 2020, and I have no doubt it isn’t finished with all of us. I can either focus on the fact that it made my wedding difficult, or I can choose to look at it that, years from now, I’ll look back and say, “Remember how we got married during the plague?”
One definitely makes for a better story.
