The Wedding - Chelsea and Kyle

I opened my car door and climbed out onto the hot cracked pavement. 

I hoisted my camera bag on one arm, my purse on the other, and balanced the wrapped box, pink and black polka dots, somewhere in the middle. I shut the door to my trusty Victoria with my hip, told my pup Fly to be a good girl and stay there through the open window and walked up the road. 

My red satin heels clicked on the hard hot pavement as I crossed from the deep shade I had parked in, into the sun. 

Today was the day. Today. One of my best friends growing up, today was her wedding day. 

It was crazy to think that we were old enough to be getting married, that we weren't just still running around like naked little heathens on the river banks where we grew up, but that we were in fact woman now. 

I rebalanced the lace wrapped gift in my right hand as I turned into the driveway, my heels sinking deeply into the gravel. The house came into view and with it the buzz of activity, chairs were set up in neat rows besides tables with beautiful runners made of burlap and standing proud in the middle of their beautiful lawn was a big white tent, the big bulbed lights hanging from the edges of it, swayed gently in the breeze. 

I found the mound of presents and placed mine beside it (it's a toaster) and looked up into the slightly sweaty face of the groom, Kyle. He sat in the shade of the house surrounded by his groomsmen. He looked up at me and smiled, only a half forced smile.

 "How ya feeling?" I asked. 

"Nervous, startin to get nervous." He drawled back. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It just hit me. This is happening." 

I smiled. Funny because the exact same feeling had just hit me.. although I doubt mine was as profound as his, mine had been a wave of excitement and disbelief and awe when I had seen the white tent through the trees, realizing that this was it, here they go. But I'm guessing his was a little more profound. A little bit more like committing the rest of his life to a woman in front of all their family and friends. 

I stepped inside the house, turning the inner door handle, it's metal cool against my palm and stepped into another world of activity. In the kitchen Kyle's mom cut bread and someone else was polishing something at the sink, we shared hellos and smiles and I moved through the living room and kitchen and into the hallways to the bottom of the dark stairs. I could hear the sounds of feminine voices, voices I know even in my sleep. 

Let me give you a little back ground. Chelsea and I haven't always been the best of friends, no, when we were children running naked on the river banks, most likely we were having a spat about something, she stole my stone I was making indian war paint with, or I'd had more than my share of our chosen picnic fair, a terrible sticky mass of soy cheese called Soycous and malt and vinegar chips, but more than just that, we had fought about serious stuff too. We had spent more than months not speaking to each other. We had screamed at each other and thrown things. She is the only person I have ever had a legitimate fight with. And as we both navigated the roads of adolescence, boys, families, responsibilities and travels, we drifted apart. The silence painful and sticky at first, and then finally just becoming normal. Sometime in the past year or two, it started lifting and now we're polite to each other, if a little tentative. I like hanging out with her and I adore hearing her laugh when we watch a movie all together. 

I love her, our friendship is just a lot smaller and different now. 

So when she decided to make all our friends bridesmaids and I didn't get an invitation to buy a silky brown dress, I wasn't really surprised. We all grow in different ways and if I wasn't included in this bit of her life. That was alright. 

So approaching the bottom of the stairs I felt a little tentative, unsure if she'd want me intruding upon the special moment of last adjustments and lost bobby pins. But I had pearls for a few of the bridesmaids (it was mandatory apparently, and they had called me. which is a good plan, if you need pearls. I'm the one to call.) 

     I stood at the bottom of the stairs for an instant and looked up into the sunlight above and I saw Chelsea, her back to me, her skin flushed, flowers being braided into her beautiful long blond hair. 

She was stunning. Her dress was beautiful, a long white strapless gown, fluted in lace and tiny beads that caught the light gently and winked at me. She turned her head and caught sight of me and smiled, radiant. 

 "Come on up." She said beaconing me with a perfectly manicured hand. 

I climbed up into the attic room and into the frenzy. Bridesmaids dresses lay draped over dressers, the contents of someone's bag was strewn across the middle of a bed while a half clothed woman riffled through it frantically, muttering something that sounded like "polish!"
The air was filled with the smell of girl, sweat, sweet perfume and nerves. But strangely, as I looked around at the mayhem of bridesmaids, they were the ones sweating, not Chelsea. 

She looked radiant, answering questions while getting the last few pins stuck into her hair. It was as if she was directing a circus. I leaped into the action. 

     I don't know if you know this about me, but I love weddings. And I know a surprisingly lot about them –that's what you get when you're in a committed three year relationship, you don't have a job and you stumble upon websites such as The Knot and Green Wedding shoes. I've spent hours, days, months and possibly more -but I try not to think about THAT- learning the ins and outs and the do's and don'ts of weddings–. Of course my knowledge is beginning to be a bit out of date, since it's going on two and half years since I was doing that on the regular. However, I still know my stuff, however outdated it may be becoming.

I hopped into the fray, zipping dresses, lending pearls and pulling my camera from it's case to snap a few photographs. This only happens once, after all. 

The next thing I knew we were gathered in a circle, hands enlaced, heads bowed as Teya, spoke a blessing on the day, and on Chelsea and Kyle and on their marriage. I felt blessed to be a part of this pivotal moment. Tears began to form in Chelsea's eyes and she blinked them back with difficulty. 

As we began to make a chain to descend the stairs, Nikki, Kyle's sister, gave a start and ran back to her bag in which she pulled out an envelope and handed it to the girl in the big white dress. "From Kyle." She said with a smile. Chelsea undid the paper and began to read and then quickly pulled her eyes from the page as tears started to well in her beautiful blue eyes immediately. 

"I can't read it. Someone else read it!" She asked. 

The letter was handed around until it reached Teya and in her soft voice she read out the words of Chelsea's soon to be husband.. 

The words were soft and tender and cut with the wonder of real love. He promised he'd take care of her. That he loved her. And that the only woman he would ever want was the woman standing before us, trying desperately not to cry. 

Outside in the garden, behind the house we lined up. Or well they did and I snapped photos of them. The wedding party slowly dwindled as they stepped off together down towards the isle, and as the last set of people prepared to leave Chelsea suddenly looked panicked and looked at me. 

"You're not leaving me are you? Don't leave me alone." Her voice was urgent and her eyes searching. I smiled and reached for her hand. "No, I got ya. I'm here." 

 As the backs of the last bridesmaid and groomsman left. We shared a moment together, just Chelsea and me. I felt honored and special to share this with her. But I knew it wasn't supposed to be me that held her hand at this incredibly special moment, it was her papa's duty. 

     I know he would have been so proud of his baby girl, all gorgeous and grown up. I know the way he would have looked at her, the way he used to when we were kids, like she was the sun and he was so quietly blessed to be her daddy. And I knew that he was probably here with us, in the brief moment before the ceremony as I fixed her dress, pulling the train to swing out on the lawn behind her, he was here, in the sunlight on her cheeks and he was here, in the bird song chirping on the breeze.
And then the moment was gone, Chelsea's brother came galloping into view and he took her arm and with a few tears from him, they were gone. 

The ceremony was a blur of tears and heartfelt words I saw through the viewfinder of my camera. It's steady click, click, click, as I moved from seat to isle and isle to lawn, capturing the moments of this special day. 

Chelsea cried as she spoke her vows and Kyle's voice wobbled and shook as he spoke his, unabashedly wiping away his own tears. The audience was quiet, listening and witnessing this moment.

I cried. 

Tears running freely down my cheeks as I tried not to shake too much and wobble my camera. 

I think the moment I will always remember was the look on Chelsea's face as she placed the ring upon Kyle's left hand and told him that with it she placed her whole heart. 

She practically glowed, her radiance, her faith, so bright as to catch the sun.

                         *                    *                     *

Afterwards there was a frenzy of photos and relatives squinting up into the mid afternoon sun. And then food was served. I was running around taking photographs so this part is a bit of a blur in my head, but hopefully my camera stayed true and the images I caught will have stayed where I left them. 

After the food was served, I sat under the white tent and looked up from my lasagna to see Chelsea fighting back tears again. 

"What do you need, hon?" I asked. She wiped the corner if her eye and looked away. "Nothing." there was a pause and then, quietly, "Just my dad."

And suddenly that hit me like a wall. 

Her dad should be here. It wasn't fair that he had been taken just two months prior to this day, taken from a long and hard battle with cancer. Taken so that he wasn't able to tell her she was beautiful or loved or so filled with grace. I felt the impact of that simple sentence hit me like a train. And I reached out for her hand. She gripped on to mine. Tears welled in both our eyes and we stayed like that for a while. Her beautiful flower encrusted head on my shoulder as we sat together in a large chair under the shade of that white wedding tent.  

I felt incredibly blessed to be able to be of some comfort for her. To hold her. To love her the best way I know how. 

Eventually Kyle saw us and came over, he tentatively reached out and I placed one of the hands I was holding into his callus one. I saw him squeeze it.

The rest of the evening was beautiful, dancing on bare feet on the grass, kids running around as the evening sun sank down towards the horizon. Wedding pie devoured and the beer that was stashed in the bushes, drank. 

Eventually we formed a long line and looped hands to form a tunnel, Kyle and Chelsea run under them and we cheered. They climbed onto Kyle's red crotch rocket and with a warning word from Chelsea's mom they roared off into the dusk. 

They would be spending their wedding night in their first house, a tiny bungalow in town just off the park. The adorableness of this, did not escape me. 

The few of us left kept dancing and then after it was really dark we began cleaning up, folding tables and tablecloths, taking empty glasses into the house to be cleaned. When there was nothing left to do and the sky had truly grown dark, the wedding party and a few of us friends moved the party down to the river where we built a big bonfire, and sat in a rough circle sharing the last of the beer and strengthening the bonds of friendship between his groomsmen and all of us. 

It's funny how marriage unites people; friends, families. It is a tie of trust between people. And as we sat and watched the bonfire spark and burn up against the velvet blackness of the sky I was so thankful for it.