FEATURE: BUILDING STRONG FAMILIES
The Honeymoon
By Matt Hammitt
“Just Married” in soap on the windows, tin
cans tied to the tailpipe. Loved ones cheering.
Bubbles floating from the church sidewalk into
the trees.
Our bass player at the time, Steve Goodrum,
was the appointed driver for our big exit. The
plan was to take a celebratory ride before we
returned to the church for photographs. We
waved to our well-wishers and slipped into
the back seat. I reached up front and patted
Steve’s arm. “Just circle the church,” I told him.
“That’ll be enough.”
“What, no way!” Sarah said. “Ride around the
block! Hop on the highway! This is one of the
best parts! WE JUST GOT MARRIED!”
I mean, seriously? It’s our wedding day. How
many of these do we get? —Sarah
I didn’t want to cause a ruckus. The thought
of drawing attention to ourselves or causing a
scene made me a nervous wreck. Typical Matt.
Why couldn’t I let go? If you ever have license to
lay on the horn and drag cans behind your car,
it’s on your wedding day. We probably could’ve
blasted 95 miles per hour down Glendale
Avenue dragging a dumpster full of fireworks
and the cops would be like, “Just got married?
Carry on!”
Poor Steve. Did he dare choose sides? Down the
street for Sarah? Or around the church parking
lot for me? In my desperate attempt to avoid
conflict with strangers, I had created it with my
bride instead.
“Geez, Matt,” Sarah said, fire in those sparkling
eyes. “Just relax and enjoy the ride.”
And that’s how our friends and family saw us
off in our old white Volvo with “SARAH + MATT”
on the windows and soup cans tied to the back.
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