Last night I dreamed that it was time for me to walk down the aisle, but I couldn’t find my mascara and I wasn’t ready yet. All the guests were assembled, standing in front of their rows of white chairs on the lawn of the small vineyard, peering around expectantly. In my small dressing room inside the barn, I was dashing around, frantically trying to find my mascara and fix my hair.

Having wedding stress dreams can only mean one thing: that Raja and I are two months away from our wedding and so we’re knee-deep in booking vendors, searching for table runners and mason jars, picking hymns for the ceremony, and thinking about what kind of cake(s) we should have.

The long list of wedding details and to-dos in my head must have translated into a stress dream. Lovely!

Raja and I got married three years ago this month. A justice of the peace married us at Medford City Hall, just outside Boston. Our wedding date will forever be hovering on the precipice of the pandemic: February 28, 2020.

We knew we wanted to apply for a green card for Raja to come live in the US. Once we got engaged, we decided to do a city hall wedding so that we could be married and apply for the green card quickly. Then we’d take our time to plan our real wedding.

The city hall wedding was planned in the space of a few weeks, and we weren’t really planning on inviting anyone. Just going down there, maybe picking up some grocery store flowers on the way. But a few weeks before the date, my mom called from Wisconsin and said, “Well… can I come?”

“Come?” I said. “Oh – of course! Of course you can come! I hadn’t really thought of it.”

Then my dad and brother wanted to come because my mom was coming. My older sister would of course come, since she and I were living together in Medford. Then my younger sister in New York decided she wanted to come, if everyone else was going.

Suddenly my whole family was going to be there (Raja’s family sadly could not make it on short notice from Jordan/Germany where they lived), we invited a few mutual friends, I was buying a white dress, and it all came together very quickly and beautifully. It was a beautiful, freezing cold, sunny February day.

We were married by the justice of the peace, which took approximately five minutes. We then drove to Mystic Lake nearby to take photos on the docks, with the wind whipping our hair around, and then we went out to breakfast at Renee’s café in Somerville, and it was all over by noon.

It was lovely, simple, and full of laughter.

Of course, Raja and I didn’t know on that day that our next wedding, the big one we wanted to plan, would be more than three years later. We expected we’d do our civil wedding, wait a year for Raja’s green card, and then move to the US and do our big wedding.

One year turned into two, and we moved to the US last spring and started to plan our 2023 wedding, and here we are, knee-deep in flowers and centerpieces and guest lists and cake options and who should make the first toast.

During the past few years, between the two weddings, I often lamented the fact that the green card took longer than we wanted it to and we couldn’t plan our wedding on our own timeline. (And I do mean often. Just ask my sisters.)

I envied my friends who, especially before the pandemic, appeared to have much more straightforward paths to the altar. They met and fell in love with their people; they got engaged; they planned their weddings; they got married. No immigration paperwork to worry about. I attended their weddings and secretly sulked that I couldn’t have my own.

The times when I was wallowing and feeling the most sorry for myself about the green card wait were also the times I most envied my friends who, from my perch, seemed to have it easy.

(Why is it that we always underestimate the hardships of others, on the outside looking in, and think they have it easy?)

But there is something lovely about getting married again to the same incredible man I married three years ago. And inviting all our people to come party with us. This is the time to be witnessed and celebrated, but also to witness and celebrate our two communities.

There are no real nerves about the Big Day. We are already married and have gone through life together for more than six years. We’ve gone through so many tough times together. My nerves about the wedding day are mostly, “How will I have time to talk to and connect with allllll these people I love, some of whom I haven’t seen in ages?”

Weddings are crazy when you think about them. You’re going from being single to married – a huge commitment – on the same day that you are throwing the biggest party you’ll likely ever throw in your life, bringing together your community of people – surely not a homogeneous group – and your spouse’s community of people – surely also not a homogeneous group. Then you’re mixing this all with alcohol and seeing what happens.

I’m actually kind of glad that in two months, we’re just throwing the biggest party we’ve ever thrown in our lives, but nothing is changing for us, practically, emotionally, or legally. Back in 2020, we made that huge commitment, and I remember it was a little scary at the time, even as it was joyful.

Now in 2023, we’re just planning a big party. The priest doesn’t even need to officially officiate. We’ve got the papers already.

So my wedding stress dream made me laugh because it’s such a cliché. Not being ready to walk down the aisle because you can’t find your mascara – isn’t that an overly obvious metaphor for not being ready for marriage?

But that can’t be it in my case. That ship has already sailed. It must be that I feel overwhelmed by the to-do list (probably something to do with working too much overtime lately as well).

I don’t need to worry about being ready for marriage: got that ticked off a few years ago! Now we just need to plan a stellar party.

I can’t wait.

P.S. I’ve mostly gotten over my complex emotions about our two weddings, and the same goes for my bachelorette party next month, which my sisters/bridesmaids are graciously planning. I used to be insecure about it. “Is it weird to have a bachelorette party when I’m already married?” Then I got over myself. It’s a weekend away with my sisters and some of my closest girlfriends. Aka, a big party. Why would I pass up that opportunity?