It’s hard (and easy) to believe that two years have passed since Andy and I got married, but here we are. And here’s a reminder of that special weekend:
Part 1: The Arrival & Accommodations
Part 3: The Last Call of a Bachelor
Part 4: The Dawn of the Wedding Day
Part 6: The Perfect Day in the Park
Bonus Post: The Residual Glow of Marriage
“Never again would they be parted. All the rest of their lives they would be together.” – E.B. White, The Trumpet of the Swan
The first thing most people asked when I returned from our wedding was whether or not I felt any different. I assumed, and professed many times, that I would not feel any such shift – why should anything change after nine years with Andy? The biggest difference would be a bit more sparkle on my ring finger, and a few new memories of Boston.
I was wrong. The day I got married was one of the happiest of my life. The ceremony, the words, the blessings of family and friends, and the legal document – they all created a moment and a covenant between Andy and me that made a profound difference in my life. It was as if, finally, our relationship was official. Not that it hadn’t been for the previous ten years – this just affirmed it publicly, and though outwardly nothing may have changed, I think it resonated within both of us.
I don’t usually gush about love and stuff – and I’ve always taken the hard line and adhered to Madonna’s warning of, “What’s the point of sitting down and notating your happiness?” There’s something powerful and compelling about the darker side of life, something more interesting and artistic in the sadder aspects of our world – but every now and then there’s a moment of happiness and joy that transcends the cliches and mundane platitudes of Hallmark love, and for the first time I felt that.
When we chose the Boston Public Garden as the site of our wedding, we knew there was the potential of bad weather. May is hardly the safest month to bank on sunny skies, but we also decided that rain or shine, there was nowhere else we’d rather do it. We’d spent a number of our Boston trips strolling through the leafy expanse, watching the playful squirrels and waterfowl, and it always felt like an oasis in the midst of the city.
The site of the ceremony was near two of my favorite trees – a mighty Metasequoia and a looming larch – and between two flowering cherries.
On this, our wedding day, we truly lucked out. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and a pair of swans was just beginning to nest by the pond. After the ceremony, we walked around the park, savoring the moment and the beauty.
It is one of our favorite places in the whole world.
{To be continued…}
The hotel has changed their flower display in the lobby. On the morning of our wedding, big, beautiful double pink peonies burst forth in bloom, filling the air with their gorgeous fragrance. Grounded by green hydrangeas and backed by soaring pink cherry blossoms, it is the perfect backdrop to a sunny spring day.
Back up in the room, I have changed into my wedding outfit and take one last look at the Garden to see if I can glimpse our families assembling.
As decreed many moons ago, I am wearing an old pair of ripped jeans. They are the same pair of jeans I was wearing when I met Andy in the summer of 2000. Now, almost exactly ten years later, I somehow still fit into them.
I have on something old (a pair of lime-green moccasins circa 1995), something new (a striped Burberry shirt), something borrowed (a stone necklace from Denmark, courtesy of Suzie, that I have tied around a belt loop), and something blue (the jeans). Andy wears a lime-green shirt that matches mine, and a pair of new jeans.
Suzie has brought an unexpectedly-perfect bouquet of white peonies for me to carry, and they smell sweetly of summer. (Of all things, and of all people, I did not think of having flowers, but Suzie saves the day.)
It is time.
We make our way to the Boston Public Garden, where we meet up with our families.
Our friend and officiant Chris crafted the ceremony we had always envisioned – simple, sweet, meaningful, and with just a few touches of humor to keep our families smiling.
There were a few tears of happiness as well, and I finally understood what all the fuss was about. I always wondered if people really meant it when they said that their wedding day was the happiest of their lives. For me, it certainly was.
After the final vows and the first official kiss, I just had this overwhelming wish to hug Andy because I was so happy. It wasn’t planned, but that’s what love does.
{To be continued…}
Andy and I in front of our home, just prior to departing for Boston.
This was our suite at the Taj Hotel. Originally, the Taj was the Ritz Carlton, and it looks over the Boston Public Garden, the site of our ceremony. We selected it because our wedding was somewhat inspired by E. B. White’s The Trumpet of the Swan.
It was the perfect place – understated elegance, classical style, and impeccable service. There was a handwritten-note wishing us well during our special stay, and a tray of fruit and cheeses arrived along with a bottle of red wine.
This is the bedroom, with its king-size bed and windows looking out onto Newbury Street (actually, right across our floor was the Men’s floor of Burberry, but for once I had other things on my mind.) Each night there was a turn-down service, including a couple of chocolates. (I think Andy’s going to have to provide this when we return home.)
One of the things I notice most about a hotel is its use of flowers. A minor thing, I know, but one that has a major impact on me. Out of all the hotels we searched, the Taj always had an outstanding floral display in the lobby.
Peonies, hydrangeas and roses – two of my favorites and one of Andy’s.
Single peonies don’t always get all the glory their double cousins do, but they have more interesting colors, like this coral beauty, which glows perfectly beside an amber lamp.
More peonies were in store for us, but before that it was time to dress for The Rehearsal Dinner.
{T0 be continued…}
