How to get married with plenty of figurative, but no literal, electricity

Five years ago today, I was dressing for my wedding by candlelight. Our planned elopement to Niagara Falls coincided with the largest blackout in North American history. I had designed my hand sewn wedding dress (my sewing machine had been on the fritz too) with our train trip in mind. It was a knee length strapless sheath made of white eyelet, with a little stretch for comfort and a thin pink ribbon tied in a delicate bow at the waist. We’d matched George’s tie to the ribbon and, before he gobbed jam on it halfway through the trip lol, we were the perfect pastel couple.

We were married late that night, after having to reschedule from a payphone deep underground in the madhouse of a Toronto train station. The Eastern seaboard had come to a halt, but we would not be dissuaded. People got married before electricity, didn’t they? Our Reverend took us out to pick up pizza after the ceremony (we both teared up as we clasped hands and promised forever) and then to watch the fireworks over the blacked-out falls. I remember the wind catching my veil and blowing it around us as we looked out over the dark water. The fireworks blazed on, despite the disaster. We’ve never cared that we missed seeing a wonder of the world that night, because we’ve spent the last five years building our own : )

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