We’re home. We got home yesterday evening after attending my cousin’s wedding out in Clackamas, Saturday night.
It was a pretty swanky affair. The setting was an upscale golf-course that had beautifully lit fountains outside. The wedding and the reception were in the same room (it opened out into an L shape for the reception part), and in-between, guests went into a heated tent to mingle and enjoy refreshments.
They served a turkey dinner, and there was a d.j., and dancing, and everything that weddings entail. The cutting of cake, the toasts, the family pathos. :)
I had to see my cousin walk down the aisle, and I still can’t quite believe it… that Leslie is a wife. She was beautiful. I knew she’d be beautiful, but she looked so thin and so tan, walking down the aisle in a strapless gown, I almost wanted to cover her up, give her a big sandwich. This is my little cousin who I grew up with, and seeing her go become somebody’s wife, a part of me doesn’t quite understand how she isn’t still the little girl I played with summer after summer.
She was beautiful.
And the night.. I’ll be honest. I wanted a church. I wanted a pastor, our Pastor Bruce who presided over the church service we giggled through each Sunday. Their officiary was hip and very modern, with his ideas of a marriage being a place to protect each person’s individuality.
They were interesting decisions: The golf course, the kind of hoity-toity planner, the officiary, the colors: black and white.
Those things worked for them, though they wouldn’t have been my choices for my cousin. But there were three moments, for me, that made the wedding all it was supposed to be.
The first was when I saw the groom. I don’t know him well, but we have met on a few occasions, and with all his people around him, he still stopped, said hello to my daughter, gave me a hug, looked me in the eye. And I could smile a real smile, because this is a good man to marry my cousin. He has been by her side for five years, after a very unconventional beginning. And they have that thing, that incredibly private and magical something you can’t really know or define from the outside, but you can recognize it, when two people have what it takes to last.
The second moment was when I saw Leslie up close, for the first time after those words had been spoken, “I now pronounce you man and wife.” She was so happy. Everyone she hugged, she really hugged. She loved everybody there, at that wedding. And I wanted it to be perfect for that, for her.
And the last part… was really magic. It wasn’t during the kiss, or the cake cutting, or anything. I wonder how much you really feel on your wedding day? How much of it must of necessity feel like putting on a show? I don’t know if I’d be aware of anything below the surface.
But when they danced…
When they danced, right now I think of it, and I start crying. I don’t know what song was playing. I know the photographers tried to catch every moment. I tried to catch the moment, it was one of the few times I thought to get out my camera.
They weren’t aware of us, though. When they danced… they kissed, and held onto each other. And after five years together, and all they’ve been through, and the promise, the huge, overwhelming promise of the life they’ve vowed to lead together, I’ll tell you something: Those two people are so very, deeply in love.
I saw it.
When they danced.