9

9 years ago we were married. 9!

Out on that winding, windy island, where dresses blew into the sea and rose petals became bruised, turned from ivory to brown. We married. Fused. Cold walks to the summit, hot in deep deco baths, hide-and-seek in ruined shelters. Gin and tonic, cheese and pickle, the Pilchard Inn. Forgetful, having too much of a good time with our friends and family in the pub, unaware of what solemn act we had agreed to commit later that day, what serious promises were made, what prophecies were spoken.

Pink dress. Turquoise waves. A spider. Brass blazer buttons. Cocktails. Diamante. Dusty Springfield.

A sudden change in light and a shaft of sun appeared, illuminating that glazed stage; the players, the heritage, those cherished family members no longer with us.

We were married.

These are my memories. Memories that don't have staged, beautiful photographs to illustrate our story. Memories that live on, vivid in my mind, technicolour in my heart, cold and solid on my finger, alive and warm in those brown, brown eyes I look into each day. Always.

Thank you lover x