I was pretty sure that I was about to puke. No, completely certain. About a billion and a half [times two] rationalizations were buzzing their way about my skull, maintaining a steady rhythm beneath my perfect hair and borrowed veil. My gaze slipped ahead to the ring bearers, dueling with their mothers, who attempted, as best as possible, to hush and direct their little ones. Then, the ring bearers were gone, first down the hill, making a beeline in the direction completely opposite of the wedding party, but then, after some direction from the crowd and coordinator, they, like everyone before them, disappeared from my view. Next the flower girls, and then it was time. I don’t know why I was so nervous. I wasn’t scared, I very much knew this was right, and we had, after all, broken the cardinal rule of weddings and seen each other before the ceremony, but nevertheless, I had about-to-perform-a-huge-solo-in-front-of-a-cajillion-people butterflies bubbling in my belly. I descended the hill, holding tight to my father, and made that fateful trip around the corner, onto the aisle. Then, suddenly, all of my nerves immediately faded as I saw the man in front of me. There he was, my big goofy fiancé, crying his eyes out. And there we have it, a brilliant example to the beginning of a new life together. Following beautiful, personal vows and a ceremony given by our friend and dear brother, Justin Marshall, Mr. and now, Mrs. Bennett attended a reception that was monumentally monumental and a whole lot of fun. We left through a tunnel of bubbles and headed into a [lovely decorated] white bug, and started a whole new chapter. This new chapter. And, as we drove through the streets of Tempe to our apartment, our home, I somehow already knew my life would never be the same.