Hands to Hold

The Saturday of the wedding was supposed to rain. Some logistical issues had to be thought through, and other worries arose with so many travelling into the foothills for the first time.

The groom got there early, to the Inn, that is, and made sure the rooms were warmed and ready, signs were put up on the doors and home made chocolate chip cookies were put out in the diningroom. Afterwards, he was spotted in the pub pacing around and waiting for the long afternoon to wind down. His family was beside him, feeding him lunch and a shot or two, I'm sure. Meanwhile, the bride was taking a leisurely drive north with Jenn to settle into a beautiful room upstairs.

The brother of the groom was charged with keeping b&g apart, and he did a good job except for a glimpse or two as we crossed the parkinglot between the Inn and the reception hall. The men formed a semi-circle wall as we made our way past. It was then that I felt Bride-like and laughed over the traditions that make such an important day all the more special.

Early in the afternoon, the rain stopped as the clouds turned to light gray and rays of sunshine peeked through the windows on the 2nd floor. Nerves quieted by guests arriving to rap on the door and share their excited hugs and good wishes and maybe get a glimpse of the dress. The bouquet that Korina made was exquisite: buttondown satin with roses and natural greenery and from it the mementos of those missing from the day: dad and moms, a brother, our beautiful Aiyana.

We began our trek across the rolling lawn and down the stairs into the hallway right at 6. And as I curved into view, and saw Randy's handsome face as he stood at the end of the hall, nervousness over being the center of attention melted away. His eyes filled with tears and he wiped them as he took my hand in his and said what he always does and always makes me feel, you are beautiful.

And together, we stepped over the threshold and into married life.