Be thou my
Not nervous, but not not nervous, but something else: jangley.
Jang-jang-jangley, like jittery and hopped-up jumpy, with the sound of my heart beating bumpy, the sound of nerves tin-tattering screeching pulsing and pump pumping as I stood there in a suit, waiting for her to come down.
I couldn't see her but only the movement, the movement of white and walking, the movement of heads and hushed turning and thoughts talking there she / there she / there she is. From behind me sang Be thou my vision and she walked slow, walked slow, walked slow and stately stepping strong foot and flowers forward and I couldn't see past the heads and the crowds craning around to see. I couldn't see down the aisle where she was coming to me, couldn't see down the church, down the stainglassed space to where she was and I stood there, standing still not nervous, but inside jump-jump and jangling.
And then she was there and she smiled, through the veil, and I took her hand in mine.