by Steve Huffman
Meg and I got married Saturday. I was trying to come up with a more eloquent means of delivering the news, but decided to just go ahead and put it out there.
So, there you have it.
Meg is wonderful, Meg is beautiful, Meg is funny.
Meg is also my wife.
Saying so still makes me pause.
We got married in the living room here at Stately Huffman Manor. It was a simple ceremony with just a few members of our family and a handful of friends. Ross O’Neal, the preacher from the Methodist church up the street, officiated.
This is my second marriage. I got married in 1982 and stayed married for almost 20 years before divorcing. Meg’s husband, Tom, died in a car accident in 1996. I’ve got two sons, Zachary and Will. Meg has a pair of daughters, Jeanette and Lori, and a 4-year-old granddaughter, Mia.
Put us all together and I think we make a nice-looking family though I’m still having a bit of a problem coming to grips with this whole grandfather thing.
I remember little about my first wedding, which was a fairly elaborate affair staged in a church. I remember being a little nervous about the whole thing, but that’s about it.
Maybe it’s part of the whole aging process, but I was much more emotional during Saturday’s wedding. My voice cracked and I had to stop to collect myself. We finally got through the whole thing.
Meg is a nurse and had to be back at work Monday, so we’re going to wait a bit before taking a honeymoon. We’re talking about a cross-country drive in late spring, maybe even spending a few nights camping in Montana.
For the time being, we are (as the Society section of newspapers used to say) “making our home” here in Spencer. We’re having a good time of it.
Meg is my wife.