Before I forget...
Remembering a most magical wedding day.
The mason jars still hang in the trees, but the chairs and tables have been taken away.
My beaded white wedding dress is back on its hanger.
Bottles of champagne, floating in melted ice.
Flowers are slowly wilting in vases.
The cake is starting to crumble but is still very sweet.
It’s hard to put into words this marriage celebration of ours.
We’ve had an official union for a while now, but the act of gathering with our family felt important, especially after all these years of separation, sickness and loss.
So, last Saturday, we hosted our family and friends for a bonafide wedding, with a caterer and a makeup artist and rented tablecloths and not one photographer, but two.
My whole goal was to not be so stressed out that I didn’t get to enjoy the day. With a little help from Priya Parker, I tried to find the art of the gathering within the act of it. I set a disputable purpose and embraced my role, not as a chill host, but as a host with generous authority.
I can’t say those hours (and absolutely nutty weeks before) weren’t totally stress free. My stomach was a mess; my endorphines are still all over the map. The closest thing I’ve experienced like it was like childbirth — so much anticipation, unavoidable bumps in the road, an incredible payoff — I wouldn’t want to do it again, but the joys of having done it made it worth the effort.
Watching my kids see me in my dress. Holding Frank’s hands at the altar. Dancing under the patio lights.
Before time gets away from me, a thief stealing the tiny treasures of this special day, I wanted to record some of them here.
Those one-inch picture frame moments that take us straight to the source.
The Fishbowl Game: Y’all know how much I loved Parker’s “The Art of Gathering,” which included this little game to help encourage guests to chat with one another. I wrote a little fact about each person on a little piece of paper. Something that might come up in casual conversation with new person they met at the party. (“Met Addie outside a bank in Spain, where their first conversation was in Spanish.” Answer: Emily W., who is now a Spanish teacher and midwife assistant in Pennsylvania)
I worried about giving prizes for the people who completed it, but I found out that the prize was intrinsic. People loved having this task. Guests came up to me all night to tell me about their clue and the person they found. It gave me something quick to talk about as I made the rounds and provided an icebreaker for them. Win-win.
The pocket quilts: I set out to make these 2-inch-by-2-inch mini quilts in the week leading up to the wedding, thinking they would make fun prizes for the Fishbowl Game. But in the house leading up to the ceremony, as I sat with a needle and thread in my hands finishing an edge as my sweet friend Jamie put flowers in my hair, I realized that the act of sewing the quilts must have been more important than having made them. Because I’d only finished four.
For me, sewing is akin to fire-making — every one of my maternal ancestors would have held a threaded needle in their lives. That comforted me greatly.
Aunt Anna’s ring: My mom came through with another family jewelry surprise. (This is her superpower.) The night before the wedding, she revealed this beautiful ring that my grandmother had made with two diamonds from a set of earrings originally owned by my Aunt Anna. Because of all of this ancestry work, I immediately knew her story: she was the last of my ancestors to have been born in Sweden, and she came over with her older brother and mother in 1893 when she was 10 yeas old. Her first steps on American soil were at Ellis Island. Cold chills.
Stacking sticks in the garden: It took weeks to get the yard in order for this thing, and just a few days before, we were still clearing debris left over from the February freeze. My dad’s sister’s family did so much work to help get everything ready, and I spent all day on Thursday with my uncle Carlos, whom I’ve grown even closer with since my dad’s death in 2018. The same is true of his wife, Leesa, and their adult kids, who live in far Northwest Austin. They love to travel, and we’ve been to some of the same places, including Spain, so we had this wonderful time sharing memories. That was just as special as any of the conversations I had at the wedding itself.
Sisters. I want to remember the way hugs feel from each of these women.
The zine. I want to remember how fun it was to collaborate across the country with my friend Rachel and her family to make this little ‘zine about our garden for the wedding.
“Here Comes the Sun”: I asked Frank what he didn’t want to forget. He said, “Here Comes the Sun,” the song I chose for the guitar player to play while I walked down the aisle.
It was a long, cold, lonely winter getting to this very warm, sunny altar.
Yes, Frank. I’ll marry you.
Thanks for all the love and support, readers and friends. I’m glad to share a little snapshot of the day here.
Zine production gets underway next week!
Addie
Beautiful memories captured by this story. All the work was an act of love from everyone involved to help give you the wedding of your dreams. It was perfect in its imperfections and beautiful in sharing with your family and friends. The best is yet to come and what a great beginning!
This brought tears to my eyes. Congratulations!