At twenty-three, I married a boy I'd known for nine months at a courthouse in Reno. We had eighty-four dollars between us and a witness who was, technically, a parking attendant.
At forty-seven, I married the same man, in our backyard, with our two grown children watching, and a goose that wandered up uninvited and stayed for the whole ceremony.
I would like to tell you the second wedding was profound and the first was a mistake. I cannot tell you that. They were both, in their own clumsy way, the truest thing I have ever done.
— Fin —