Two years married, with many more to come

Dear readers,

Pamela Cruz Lozano. She’s lying next to me right now. She’s looking at pictures of dogs. Our own, Vicente, is outside, in need of Valium, as do many five month old puppies. Pamela is my wife.

Two years to this day, this very moment, we were walking down the ailse. I was a couple of gin and tonics to the good, a little something to settle my nerves, courtesy of my cousin Sam (we later danced to his song, Poets). I was sure of everything going well, as I was about (and still am) about spending the rest of my life with the woman next to me now, as woods and barks echo from her phone.

I remember the lamp toppling over and Jordan Kenny and Dennisse Cruz Lozano being the best man and maid of honor swallowing the bread of Christ, despite them being more atheist these days than Richard Dawkins. I remember nearly toppling over as well taking the rosary beads to the statue of Mary. Friends and family surrounding me. Pamela with happy tears in her eyes.

We wed at the church in Miraflores. Our house now stands a stone throw away. I sometimes take Vicente there for walks around the car park. Churches have always given me a sense of peace, as it does for many, even before I became Catholic. But these walks always remind me of that night. That life-changing night. That moment.

Strangely, with all the superstition surrounding weddings, we just had a black month in the house. Usually this is associated with bad omens. Death even. Yet in other cultures it’s an out with the old and in with the new, the mark of positive times to come. My wife, being the bubbly and positive, have helped me think the same way.

So let the moth be a great omen, after an already couple of great years of marriage.

Te amo mucho.

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