On the day of my wedding, my father was to collect me at my home and take me to the venue. He arrived late! Everyone was seated and waiting, and I was only leaving my home. I ended up half an hour late. I could see on the recording afterwards my husband anxiously waiting for the car to arrive.
As soon as I left the car, I grabbed my father (after a quick scuffle on which side I should be on, minor overlooked details leading up to the day), and practically ran down the aisle. Really, I’m not joking. There were no small slow steps for me, no sirree, I was late and in a rush and I had my husband-to-be waiting. Fortunately, he waited. That was fifteeen years, two kids and a miscarriage, another continent, three months and 11 days ago.