Twelve years after our own wedding, I think Raf and I are happy to attend weddings without the stress of it all. I was my own version of a Bridezilla, wanting to do everything by myself. Raf and I spent hours stringing wires around Mason jars to hang in the trees as candle holders, we made bows for each and every invitation, I wrote a poem for him and a loooooong-winded program that were printed on vellum and placed on a table at the entrance. I sewed feathery fake butterflies to my veil and hand-picked a band to play 1960s soul music. The effect was beautiful and exactly what I wanted. But by midnight, the party was over and my bridal daydreams turned back into pumpkins, which have become now become three little pumpkin pies for whom I will one day play the Mother of the Bride. Happily.
Over the weekend, we attended the wedding of my youngest cousin, Julie, the daughter of my beloved Aunt Carolyn. Julie is luminous on a daily basis -- one of her nicknames is Tinkerbell, among many, many others -- and her 1930s-inspired wedding was just another opportunity for all of us to bask in her light. Her husband, Shane, glows as brightly, and it was a pleasure to celebrate the world that they've created.
When the wedding began, it was hot in the sun, so many of us decided not to sit "on the bride's side," preferring instead to sit behind the groom's family. Inadvertently, I got a beautiful view of my Aunt Carolyn (in the bottom left of this photo) watching her youngest child at the altar. I love this picture because Carolyn is crying happy tears and Julie is looking at her future, in Shane's face. Once I was in Julie's place, and someday I will be in Carolyn's place.
No wonder I always cry at weddings.