Salt Touched

Tale as old as time, True as it can be
Barely even friends, then somebody bends, unexpectedly
Just a little change, small to say the least
Both a little scared
Neither one prepared…

Not for the first time in the last few days I find myself at a loss for words. How to start talking about the last week? When from the fried snickers bars at the fair (which served as my impromptu bachelorette) to…everything else…Too many emotions flying by too fast, everything is a blur. A wonderful, beautiful blur.

It was a long day, I’m tired, I feel like a wrung out sponge, too many things left, almost nothing left. But I don’t mean that in a bad way.

The rest of the day went so fast- that…well, as I said, it’s a blur. A blur of colours, emotions, amazing music, amazing people. A love, over all, a lot of outpouring of love.

And also a whole lot of stage fright.

The whole day started early, although perhaps not as early as you might expect. There was at the very least time for a proper breakfast, and time for me to start my duty of drinking lots and lots of water (I swear every time I turned around all day someone was telling me ‘Shaughnessy, hydrate!’). There was at least one averted disaster involving the flower vases accidently ending up in the wrong place and having to be retrieved (“Tolerance! I need you to drive me to the venue! Like right now!”) but all did go fairly smoothly, despite the underlying nerves that drifting about the rooms. But it was fairly quiet…at first.

And then, at twelve noon it became sheer organized chaos.

At the same time as my (amazing) Mother was finishing the flowers (which had been picked up the day before and had been chilling in our downstairs bathroom) – I was having my always uncooperative tresses literally tied into elegant knots – including wearing extensions for the first time in my life – attempting to eat something, and drink something (“Shaughnessy! Hydrate!”) and using my laptop to make sure that my equally amazing make-up artist got her paycheque as she walked through the door to set up!

The multitasking bride, that’s me.

Talk about everything happening all at once.

The one moment I remember the most clearly is when Mum called me into the kitchen and I got the first look at my bridal bouqet. My jaw dropped, and then dropped again at the sight of the rest of the flower arrangements. Honestly, my mother should have been a florist. I found out after the fact that even the staff at the venue were impressed!

And then just as swiftly as it had started, it stopped for a few hours. A few long, drawn out hours, of hurry up and wait – before I gathered my super-duo of bridesmaids and started getting hitched into the dress.

Despite all the fittings and all the preparations and measurements – I wasn’t really ready for it.

Once it’s all together, the hair and the flowers and the old, new, borrowed and blue – it hit me like a punch to the stomach. All of those traditional items had been very carefully chosen, the hairpiece was new, the old was my great-grandmother’s jewellery and the borrowed – well that was a running joke between my Mum and I, as I have been ‘borrowing’ the same set of sea-pearl hair combs from her for at least twenty years – and the blue? The blue was a set of Tardis Blue stud earrings. Had to get a little touch of fun into it didn’t I?

One of my clearest memories of the day is standing in the middle of my childhood bedroom and saying that this “suddenly all feels very real.”

And I walked down the stairs and heard someone – I’m not sure who – say:

Hey, you look like a bride.

Yeah, you’d think I was getting married or something.

And I remember pulling up the hem of my gown so that Kit-Kat could slip the silver six-pence my Aunt had sent me from England into my left shoe…

Then we waited, and as it turned out, everyone or at least a bunch of someones, knew something that I didn’t know.

You see – our friends are amazing – they may not have thousands of dollars, but they are almost all artists, and they have huge hearts. And one of them? Collects classic cars.

So it was that my favourite car in the whole world – a replica 1940s Auburn speedster, one of only 67 in the world – pulled up to my front door on a breathtakingly sunny afternoon in June, to take me to my wedding.

That part was planned, that was expected , but I wasn’t expecting what came next.

Where’s your Dad?

Probably bringing the family car around so they can follow us…

Oh well…

And just at that moment Dad walks out the front door and the car’s owner says

By the way…your Dad’s driving you.

It’s a very good thing that the woman responsible for my make-up had the foresight to insist on waterproof mascara.

Are you trying to kill me?

Nah, he took a practice drive yesterday, you’ll be safe.

Some of my favourite pictures of the day so far are of the moments just before that car drove off.

I never ever thought something like that would happen, ever. And the moment of realizing that this time you’re the bride everyone looks at as they pass is pretty surreal. Especially since we had to take the long way around.

Er, weren’t we supposed to turn there?

Have to take you the long way – Amras’ cab didn’t wait for him so he’s delayed, if I take you straight there we’ll run right into him.

So I got to drive by the water in a vintage convertible with my Dad.

That’s a pretty amazing moment.

Of course, once we arrived at the venue, I was almost instantly passed into the hands of my Super-Duo. Seriously, Kit-Kat and Tolerance should rent themselves out as bridal party experts. From helping assemble table décor, to hauling everything to and from the venue, to arriving at said venue early to put the entire reception set up together in only half an hour. These two girls did the world of ten.

Including caring for a terribly nervous woman in a white dress.

I was so nervous that I was shaking all over, though I really wanted to put that down to the cold.

Do you need the penguin huddle?

Okay.

So the girls crowded in on either side of me and put their heads on my shoulders, and just stood there, helping me ground until I slowly stopped shaking. I was aware that the photographer was there in those moments, but I don’t think I was there really. I was…somewhere else.

And then I heard Amras’ processional. The crashing chords of Love Reign O’r Me marching forward across the garden, and I looked up just in time to see him disappearing down the aisle.

And then there were trumpets. Though I went through a handful of other pieces for my processional, there was really only one; as my Maid of Honour found her mark, and my bridesmaids stepped barefooted onto the lush spring grass to follow her, the overture to The Slipper and the Rose soared out over the tiny crowd and my Dad carefully took me by the arm (he said later that I was too scared to move).

Come on, it’s okay…let’s go.

I didn’t cry – not then – the tears came later. What was ringing in my ears then was what my father had said at the rehearsal.

Find the heartbeat.

So my feet fell where they were supposed to.

Originally I deeply wanted both my parents to walk me down the aisle, but there were several reasons that wasn’t going to work – so I met my Mum at the top of the aisle instead, and as she rose and I gave her and my Dad a hug…that was when I cried. And there was a physical release just below my ribs, as I realized that Mum was okay with this, that everything was going to be okay, that some transitions are hard but they are happy, and that I was being let go in a way that meant I could always come back.

All within the space of one heartbeat and the next.

I wasn’t ‘given away’ I was released.

And then I took my place in front of the officiant and turned to face the man who would become my husband.

It’s at this point that things start to become a little fuzzy. Like I’m viewing my memories through a strobe light – some small things stand out very clearly, while others are currently shadowed out.

One thing I do remember, very clearly was the moment I actually realized what the man I was about to marry was wearing.

You see, I had told Amras he could wear anything he wanted. So I was prepared for anything from rock-a-billy to hot pink. And I would have had to roll with it because hey – I told him to wear what he wanted.

What I did not expect was what happened: Amras stood in front of me, in the middle of a garden flooded with June sunlight, wearing a dark blue suit with a yellow-gold vest. Beauty and the Beast colours, The Beast…he tributed the Beast (one could almost say Disneybound, almost)..there are a few of you who will understand why that nearly brought tears to my eyes again. I didn’t expect that, there is no way I could have expected that.

And then things get really really blurry. I don’t remember a thing of what the officiant said. I remember trying not to cry my way through my vows, and handing off my bouquet to Silver so that I could hold Amras’ hands. And I remember the handfasting, looking down at the chord that bound us together. It took me quite some time to make that chord, and seeing it actually serve its purpose, glittering in that bright spring sunlight, is one of those frozen in time moments. I remember looking out at the small crowd of friends and family who were all beaming back at us, and going through the formal requirement of signing the marriage license and then the next thing I remember…?

Then by the powers vested in me by the Province of British Columbia, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. Amras…kiss your bride.

Moments where your life feels like the movies.

The reception is another one of those blurs, we didn’t have many people (and to our dismay we had a few no-shows) but the people that were there? They were enough. We could have thrown the net wide, I could have invited every cousin, every ship friend, and it could have been big and splashy, but that wasn’t what we wanted. This was small, and intimate and classy, and perfect. Perfect right down to the cake. The entire wedding’s theme was actually spun off from the cake topper, which was travel themed, and so the whole wedding became travel themed. From the menus, to the programs, to the names of the tables and even the placecards, everything in that room was “oh the places we’ll go”…which was…so fitting.

And then there’s more of that strobe memory thing. Little bits and pieces that refuse to come back to me properly. Except…

I’d like to ask my wife to dance.

We only had one dance. Because I said months ago that while I was never one of those girls that planned their wedding as a toddler, I did know what I wanted for my first dance. Which ties in, of course, to the reason that Amras was wearing gold and blue.

Tale as old as time, true as it can be
Barely even friends
Then somebody bends unexpectedly
Just a little change, small to say the least
Both a little scared, neither one prepared
Beauty and the Beast…

In that moment, everything all fell on top of me, and I buried my head in Amras’ shoulder, and at that moment there was just him. And I didn’t care that other people were watching us, or that there were cameras, because at that point…it made sense what my Mum had said the night before “you only have to say stuff to one person, and trust me, he’ll be the only one that matters.”

It was in that moment, that it all became very very real…that yes, after all this time, after living so long believing that I was a broken doll, and that no one would ever ever want to pick me…someone did. And yeah, we may not be perfect, and like I said in my speech (a speech which I did not expect to have to give) : “it’s been a rough few years, and there’s been some hard choices…but we got here…we made it…”

Tale as old as time, tune as old as song
Bittersweet and strange, finding you can change learning you were wrong.

And there photos after that , and amazing wedding cake, and speeches, and more speeches, and amazing servers and then…just as the sun set, there was a classic blue and silver ’57 Chev, with matching blankets, and bubbles flying through the air as everyone we loved cheered and whistled…and there three cheerful blasts on the horn…

We love you!!!
Hey you’re married now!!
Have a great honeymoon!!!

And it was over…

Was it the happiest day of my life? I don’t know. I really don’t. Part of me thinks no, because if it was the happiest day of my life then that means…where do you go from there? So no, I don’t think it was the happiest day of my life, but it was definitely one of the most precious, one of the most emotional and in some ways one of the most difficult and in some ways one of the easiest.

The best days, and probably the most joyful and most challenging are likely ahead of us, because life…life keeps moving forward and there’s never going to be a day that’s the same as the last. Step by step on the railroad tracks, to wherever the journey takes us.

Just a little change…