The day was brilliant, and the wedding took place by the sea.
Molly and Alex had written vows that included references to water–they had met in it, the pool at Connecticut College. And it flows and surrounds and falls from the sky and brings everyone and everything together. As they spoke to each other, they held hands, and just behind them the cove glittered in sunlight.
The day was joyful. We were so happy for Molly and Alex, and to be together in such a spirit of love, to be with people so open and positive. People had traveled long distances to be there: from California, Texas, even Wales. The weather was pure September: warm in the sun, cool as the afternoon progressed.
The wedding began with a moment of silence, for beloved friends and family who were not there. Alex’s stepmother Deb played cello and Maureen and I noticed an osprey fly overhead. It was a moment, probably not that meaningful or significant, or maybe it was. How hokey, to look up in the sky and see a fish hawk and get choked up thinking of who wasn’t with us.
Molly held a bouquet of blue hydrangeas. She’d woven the stems with a bracelet made of sea glass given to me by her mother. I remember the day Molly visited the cottage at Point O’Woods and spotted it on my bureau. She’d gone straight for it, picked it up as if it had called her. I suppose it had. She didn’t have to ask–I gave it to her.
Maureen and I sat in the front row. We’d been instructed to by Molly, who wanted us in her line of vision. We are her aunts, her family. Mia, her cousin, was a bridesmaid. Alex’s family embraces her as if she was their own. All the toasts and comments and conversations and actions say as much. They have taken her to their hearts. It was moving to see.
Michael, who officiated, spoke about the mysteries of water and of life.
The reception was held under a tent. It was festive and fun, and with Twigg at our table full of laughter and stories. He and Audrey Loggia were also “family of the bride.” The food was delicious. The band began to play, and Alex’s aunt Penfield came for me and Maureen and told us it was up to the aunties to start the dancing. Which we did, no problem.
P.S. Arleen, I posted the picture of Molly’s gold shoes on my Facebook page.