Six years ago...

Six years ago today I woke up in a hotel bed with four brothers sleeping on the floor. I’d argued the night before that I was perfectly comfortable sleeping on a carpeted floor, and there was certainly no need for me to take the bed by default. At the very least we could draw straws. It was four against one, however, and they had each fixed their minds that I should sleep on the bed. Sam was 20, Pax was just turned 18 and in the midst of a transfer to Roberts, Calvus was just 16 and still in high school, and Lux was only 13 years old. They all had long, shaggy hair.

I had told myself not to rush through the coffee and breakfast, knowing already that the nervous hours of the morning would pass too slowly. My parents brought bagels, and we found ESPN on the hotel’s cable stations. This was long before my parents surprised us all by getting a cable subscription at the house, and it was a rare treat to watch some Sportscenter.

I showered, scrubbed my teeth vigorously, and shaved as closely and as cautiously as I dared—after all, it would be no good to nick myself shaving today. We drove to the church about 10 AM.

It was my wedding day.

I was nervous, but it was more from an abundance of excitement than an abundance of worry. Still, there were flitting moments in which I weighed the enormity of the day. I was taking the most irrevocable step I would ever take in my life. You can change careers if you’re in the wrong job, you can change schools if you’ve gone to the wrong college, and you can sell your house. There would be no taking back of marriage vows.

My brothers were great. They were as goofy and exuberant, of course, but there were no ill-timed jokes about what they’d do to embarrass someone in the ceremony or any complaints about putting on tuxedos. They kept me pleasantly distracted and helped wherever they were needed.

Our family was about to take an irrevocable step as well. There would be no more of “the six Smith kids.” We were bringing in a spouse for the first time, and there would never again be a vacation to Alleghany State Park or a Christmas dinner in which Mom and Dad sat down with only their own children. There was going to be, not just a girl in the house, but a grown-up girl. Family photos would be different, and I wouldn’t be spending my breaks in an old upstairs bedroom anymore. The Smith family, as we knew it, was coming to an end.

I practiced when we got to the church. There were still several hours until the ceremony, and it was the best way I could think of to kill a half an hour doing something that would keep me completely distracted. It didn’t really work. My Dad came around, somehow having agreed to our foolish request to photograph his own son’s wedding. Six years later, that would be the one thing I’d do over. The photos look great, of course, but he ought to have been able to enjoy the ceremony next to Mom.

I changed out my polo and jeans around lunch, and someone came around with food—I remember having no appetite, although I think I ate a few bites of something.

One of my brothers discovered a foosball table in their explorations, and we played a few rounds while one of J’s brothers regaled Lux and Sam with an impression of Gollum’s voice.

When we entered the sanctuary, I immediately missed my trumpet. It’s no trouble for me to be up in front of a few hundred or even a few thousand people, but I’m always holding a trumpet when I’m “performing.” As I walked with the pastor and the groomsmen to the front of the church, I made a mental note to see that my gig bag ended up in a car that was going to New York, since we wouldn’t be taking any instruments on our honeymoon. No need to bow or wait for the accompanist when I got to the front of the church, or to acknowledge applause. I turned and looked at the people in the church.

There were hundreds there. Hundreds of people had driven more than five hours from New York for us, and they were beaming at me as I scanned their faces and met their eyes. I listened to the trumpet prelude as a colleague, rooting for each high note as the bridesmaids processed in. I watched as a proud older brother as M came down the aisle, hair up, glasses off, looking much older than 10 years.

And then the doors shut, and there was a fanfare.

And then the bride came in…