Last night, I took in the weather, B and I sitting on the patio, watching the moon, drinking wine, listening to Prine, laughing at something, marveling at the beauty all around us, and I said, "This is just what our wedding was like."
And it was. What a day: We had sparklers and s'mores and a hot air balloon drifting by, we had beers on ice, bobbing in a wheel barrow, second-hand china, lots of Prosecco, a dear friend overseeing it all and so many other friends donating musicians and food and their services as officiants, etc. Really, it was such a generous day, a day of love in so many sense—eros, yes, but also friendship and sisterhood/fellowship. It was a capacious day. Sparklers!
One of the best aspects of being married is that my second marriage has taken back the words "husband," "wedding" and "marriage" for me. I no longer have a photo of D. popping up in my mind to associate with these words. I'm OK with that erasure, or that mental reorganization. I'll take it.