Tonight, I am sitting in my favourite chair with a cup of tea, looking around my quiet house and thinking, How is it possible that my daughter is having a wedding in one week?

One week.

It seemed so far away for so long, and suddenly it is right here.

There is still an astonishing amount to do.

The funny thing about weddings is that so much of the work simply cannot be done very far in advance. You can plan and organize and make lists until your heart’s content, but eventually you reach the week before the wedding and realize that the lawn still needs to be cut, the flowers need to be watered and deadheaded, groceries need to be bought, cars need to be cleaned, rooms need to be prepared, and food needs to be made.

Some things have to wait until the very last minute.

Tomorrow my daughter and I are going for pedicures. I need to find a nail polish that will go with my dress. Then I need to come home and see if I can coax my sewing machine back to life after it rebelled on me tonight. Because there are still a few sewing projects to finish.

This weekend involves house cleaning and more baking and grocery buying  and car cleaning and clothing try ons.

Somewhere in there, the bridal suite and guest room have to be made ready. The freezer needs to be rearranged to make room for more food.

And people start arriving on Tuesday.

My siblings are coming from all over. All seven of us siblings will be together for this wedding much to the delight of my 94 year old mother, and some of our friends and other family members will be travelling from out of town as well. Including New Zealand and Romania.

Tonight, my dining table is covered with pedestal and tiered serving dishes while I try to decide the most beautiful and practical way to present the desserts.

These are the little things you don’t think about when you picture a wedding.

Yesterday we were figuring out how everyone is going to get to the wedding because so many people are coming from out of town and some don’t have cars.

This afternoon my husband and daughter went to the park to figure out the construction needed to hang the drapery at the amphitheatre.

My son’s dress clothes are sitting here in the living room waiting for him to try on so we can see what fits, what doesn’t and what needs to be altered.

There are hundreds of these little details.

And yet…

Tonight, none of them seem urgent.

Because right now, this house is quiet.

And that is what is striking me most.

It is so peaceful.

If you walked into this house tonight, you would never know that life is about to explode here.

You wouldn’t know that in a few days people will be arriving with suitcases and wedding clothes and questions. You wouldn’t know that the kitchen is going to be working overtime. You wouldn’t know that family members I haven’t seen in far too long will be walking through the door.

You wouldn’t know that my daughter will soon be a bride.

You would simply see a quiet house on a Thursday night.

And I am sitting here, looking around, knowing that this may be the last truly quiet evening  for a while. I think I want to remember it.

Because once the week gets going, there will be so much happening that I may forget to stop and notice it.

There will be cooking and baking and cleaning and flowers and cars and guests and dresses and hair and makeup and transportation and desserts and a hundred little decisions.

And then there will be the wedding.

The wedding.

I’ve been anticipating this moment for 35 years.

For most of my daughter’s life, her wedding was something that belonged to the future. Someday. Eventually. A thing that other people did.

I’ve been married for 45 years. I have a son who is 39 and a daughter who is 35. I’ve attended weddings. I’ve watched weddings in movies. Our favourite movie has always been Father of the Bride with Steve Martin.

I’ve watched weddings from the outside.

But this time, we’re hosting one.

This time, it’s my daughter.

And somehow that makes everything feel completely different.

I have even realized that I feel like this is my moment too.

Not instead of my daughter. Not remotely. She is the bride, and this is her day.

But I am her mother.

I’ve spent 35 years waiting for this moment, and I’ve spent this particular year preparing for it. I will be there beside her when she gets ready. I will welcome the people who have travelled to celebrate with us. I will watch my little girl—who is, of course, a grown woman now—walk into the next chapter of her life.

So yes.

I think I get to have a moment too. Tonight I’m going to sit in my chair and drink my tea. I’m going to look at the ridiculous collection of serving dishes covering my dining table. I’m going to imagine my daughter in her wedding dress.I’m going to imagine the flowers and the food and the music and the laughter and all the things that haven’t happened yet.

And I’m going to enjoy the anticipation.

Because that is part of the joy too.

Once the wedding happens, it will be over. The guests will go home. The cakes will be eaten. The flowers will eventually fade. The house will be quiet again.

Life will go back to its ordinary rhythm.

But tonight, I am standing on the threshold.

Everything is still ahead of me.

And for just this one quiet Thursday evening, I don’t have to do anything about it.

As Scarlett O’Hara would say, I can’t think about that right now. I’ll think about that tomorrow.

Tomorrow is another day.

Tonight, I’m just going to sit here and marvel at the fact that after all these years…

the wedding is only one week away.

And I am going to cherish this moment, because I know I’ll never have it again.

 

 

Given that Lexie and RED had gotten married in our backyard in front of an audience of seven, and given that they were living in a dark, damp basement bedroom in our home, I was determined that Lexie would still get to enjoy some of the traditional wedding experiences.

So last fall, my best friend and I—the mother of two of Lexie’s closest friends—planned a bridal shower for her.

Since I was running the show, I decided that I could pull out all the stops and make it as grand as I wanted. In the end, we settled on a travel theme, since travel was how she and RED had met. It wasn’t quite as fluffy and romantic as some of my original ideas, but it was perfectly suited to them, and we had an absolute blast putting it together.

I invited everyone I could think of who had been part of Lexie’s life and our family’s story. Two of my sisters and my niece even flew in from Toronto for the occasion.

For one glorious afternoon, Lexie was the princess bride.

She was showered with beautiful gifts—so many, in fact, that we had to store them temporarily at my sister-in-law’s house because we had absolutely no room for them at ours.  Our friends were so generous.  They send funds and my friend and I did the shopping off of Lexie’s bridal registry.  We had SO much fun.

At the shower we took countless photos. We watched a video chronicling Lexie and RED’s relationship, lovingly put together by my niece. We sipped mimosas and laughed and cried in all the right places.

One of Lexie’s friends made a stunning Lambeth cake. I made homemade macarons, which turned out surprisingly well considering they’re such tricky little buggers. There were candles, flowers, and twinkling fairy lights strung across the ceiling beneath billowing clouds of organza.  Luggage  and globe vignettes.

In other words, it was exactly what one would expect from the bride’s crazy mother. We don’t just go the extra mile. We go completely over the top.  But it was well worth it.  I wouldn’t change a thing.

 

RED and Lexie got engaged while they were both living in London. In October of 2023, RED took Lexie to Venice and proposed somewhere in the middle of a busy street.  Being a thoughtful young man, he had even set up a camera to capture the moment. Unfortunately, once we watched the video, we discovered that half of Venice had apparently decided to walk directly between the camera and the proposal. People wandered through completely oblivious to the fact that a life-changing moment was taking place behind them. Perhaps marriage proposals are a common occurrence on the streets of Venice. Whatever the reason, the video was more comical than romantic.

At that point, most of our family didn’t know much about RED. Well, I did. I mean I knew about him…but not much.

A few months earlier, while Lexie was visiting Romania, I had received a panicked phone call from her after she and RED had a disagreement. She was convinced they had broken up and was heartbroken. It turned out to be a temporary misunderstanding, but the intensity of her reaction told me everything I needed to know. This relationship mattered.

So when my sister and niece—who is about Lexie’s age—learned that she had gone to Venice with a mysterious young man, the alarm bells started ringing.

“Do you know this person?”

“Did she go willingly?”

“What is going on?”

“Is she being human trafficked?”

I assured them that she was perfectly fine.

“Calm down,” I said. “I know who he is. I know what this is about.”

I didn’t know about the engagement yet, but I knew about RED and I knew about the trip.

I didn’t actually discover they were engaged until Lexie returned to Canada the following spring. We were out having coffee one day when I noticed a ring on her finger.  Now, she was wearing it on her right hand, but Lexie wasn’t usually someone who wore rings all the time. Besides, this ring looked a little better than something from Shoppers Drug Mart  or the prize box at the dentist’s office.

I asked if it had some special meaning.

“Maybe,” she replied.

“Is it a promise ring?”

“No.”

And that was when she finally admitted that she and RED were engaged.

Apparently RED had wanted to call my husband and ask for Lexie’s hand in marriage the old-fashioned way. The opportunity hadn’t presented itself yet, so they were keeping the engagement quiet.

That conversation was also when I learned that RED would be moving to Canada in August. We would need to find somewhere for him to live.

Long story longer, a friend of ours who is a certified marriage officiant married RED and Lexie in our backyard. Since they intended to marry anyway, they chose the spousal sponsorship so they could start the visa process.

We built them a room in our basement, and they have lived here ever since.

Not exactly the Venetian fairy-tale ending people imagine when they think of an engagement.  But then again, real life rarely follows the script.  And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Now Lexie and her father are two peas in a pod.

Lexie and I have a wonderful relationship. We have a lot in common. We’re both creative, we’re both women, and of course we’re mother and daughter. We like many of the same things and can often read each other’s minds. That’s not to say we don’t occasionally exasperate one another, because we certainly do.

But Lexie and my husband Mike? That’s a whole different story.

Their personalities are remarkably similar. They understand each other on a level that sometimes leaves the rest of us watching from the sidelines. In much the same way, my son Andrew and I share an emotional wavelength. We don’t necessarily have the same interests, but somehow we’re often feeling the same things.  It’s interesting how families work that way.

This summer, Mike will be the quintessential father of the bride.  He’s already been asking whether he can wear one of his old suits to the wedding.  The answer, of course, has been a unanimous no.  Naturally, this brings to mind Father of the Bride, where Steve Martin squeezes himself into an old suit, only to split it dramatically while parading around the house. Every time Mike mentions one of his ancient suits, that’s the scene that flashes into my mind.  However,  he found a decent suit sitting in the basement that still fits because Mike has amazingly kept his girlish figure over all the years and its been bride approved.

Just as he has gone above and beyond over the years to help Lexie build her floral business—surrendering our garage and occasionally half the house in the process—he’ll spend much of this summer building props and structures for the wedding. Everyone seems to have a role. Mine involves sewing things and  feeding people.  Lexie and Red are hosting a family dinner as part of the wedding weekend, so I’ll be organizing food, negotiating with caterers, baking pies and butter tarts, and making sure everyone is well supplied with comfort and calories.  I’ll also be sewing tablecloths, backdrops, umbrella covers, and whatever other decorative items are required to transform a patch of forest into a wedding venue.

Most likely, I’ll also be helping with her wedding dress.  Holding things up and pinning things. She is designing it herself and has her own ideas so I will just be the sous seamstress.  At the moment,  the fabric is sitting under the sewing table all 15 meters intact. Yikes.

The funny thing is that Lexie knows this industry inside and out. As a floral designer, she’s immersed in the wedding world every day. She knows the planners, the florists, the photographers, the venues, and all the moving parts that most brides never see. She has a very clear vision for her wedding.  Through friendships, favours, and a little strategic bartering, she’s gathered an impressive team of people who will help bring that vision to life.

And so I sit here in my favourite chair—my reading chair, praying chair, contemplating-life chair, and occasionally my staring-out-the-window chair—and I imagine how it will all come together.

More than anything, I want this wedding weekend to feel like the vision she carries in her heart.

As the RSVPs arrive and the date draws nearer, the reality of it all is beginning to settle in. This isn’t simply a wedding. It’s a celebration of a marriage that has already begun.  And somehow that makes it feel even more meaningful.

At long last, we are planning a wedding in this home.

We’ve talked about it. Dreamed about it. Imagined it. Ever since my daughter Lexie was little, being a bride and having a wedding has been part of our conversations. Lexie always knew she wanted a wedding—even during the years when she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted a husband.

And now, at long last, it’s come to fruition.

She’s found her prince charming, so to speak. Although if we’re being realistic, is any man really Prince Charming?

Red comes close.

Had I ever imagined that my future son-in-love would be named after a colour? No. For years, as I prayed for Lexie’s future husband, I gave him a name. Paul. Paul after the Apostle Paul. It somehow felt less abstract to pray for an unknown boy and eventual man if he had a name.

Years later, when Red was telling Lexie about his childhood in Romania, he spoke about how often he and his older brother were left on their own. They got into some trouble, as boys often do, but he remarked that he was surprised they hadn’t gotten into much worse trouble or experienced more serious consequences.Without missing a beat, Lexie replied, “That’s because my mom has been praying for you since I was a baby.”I was ridiculously delighted when she told me that story—not only because she remembered all those years of prayers, but because she knew exactly when to tell him.

Red hails from Romania. Lexie met him while living in London, England, for two years. When her time there came to an end, she essentially brought him home with her.Because he was immigrating to Canada, he wasn’t immediately able to work, which made finding a place of their own difficult. So we happily welcomed them into our home.

One month after Red arrived, they were married in our backyard. The visa process began, life moved forward, and now, almost two years later, we’re finally planning the wedding celebration.

Since I work in a school, I have summers off. This summer will be spent sewing for the wedding, planning the wedding, baking for the wedding, and decorating for the wedding.

And if I’m honest, this whole wedding business has been a dream of mine too.

Of course, I had my own wedding 45 years ago and I’m still married to the same wonderful man. But back then, weddings weren’t quite the cultural phenomenon they’ve become. The wedding itself wasn’t the dream; it was simply the vehicle that got you to the marriage.

Somewhere along the way, weddings became something more. They became celebrations, family stories, and treasured memories before they even happened.

Lexie and I share an affection for the movie Father of the Bride. We quote it far more often than any reasonable people should. Over the years it has become part of our family language. Sometimes I’ll say, “This is a Father of the Bride day.” What I mean is difficult to explain. It isn’t really about weddings. It’s about a feeling. A sense of gratitude. A recognition that life, for all its hardships and surprises, has produced a moment worth celebrating.

A Father of the Bride day is a good day.

And this summer, I suspect there will be many of them.

 

I’m actually just loving this summer so far.

I’ve been on summer vacation, so to speak, for two weeks now. They haven’t gone exactly the way I’d hoped because I wasn’t planning on doing a bit of a home renovation. But I got through that. It’s done. It’s beautiful. And now we move on.

My garden has been incredibly satisfying. Every spring I wonder, Am I going to be able to get it looking as good as it did last summer? And somehow it usually shows up for me… mostly because I show up for it.

It’s never the same from year to year, but it’s always beautiful in different ways. Gardening is one big experiment, and I love waiting to see what that experiment is going to produce. I’ve given up on vegetables, but I don’t miss them. Instead, I have gorgeous perennials and annuals, and I’m now up to seven rose bushes. They’re all blooming, and every time I do my early morning garden walk  they make me smile.

And finally… summer has arrived.

My husband turned on the air conditioning in the middle of June, but most days I was sitting here wishing I could turn on the fireplace but that doesn’t make sense.. It just never felt like summer. But now it does.

I’ve already seen two sets of fireworks. Fireworks just feel like summer to me. They’re festive and uplifting and spectacular. I’d love to have fireworks at my daughter’s wedding, but since it’s happening in the daytime, I’m thinking that might be a little difficult to pull off.

My early morning walks have been well worth the effort. The mornings are beautiful, and once I’ve accomplished that, I usually feel like accomplishing something else. It’s funny how one good decision often leads to another.

I’ve made my first potato salad of the season. We’ve had watermelon. I baked a lovely Fourth of July cake for my husband and me to celebrate our 45th wedding anniversary, which happens to fall on July 4th. I have to admit, I love the way Americans celebrate Independence Day. It’s probably the only time I’m ever a little jealous that I don’t live there. I love all the red, white, and blue.

Sometimes I’ll be driving somewhere on one of those perfect summer evenings—taking my mom home after she’s spent the afternoon with us or heading to Costco for cheap gas—and I find myself wishing I had somewhere to go just to soak up the evening. But most of the time I simply head back home. Gas is too expensive for aimless joyrides.

We did spend an evening at the Stampede, though. The Stampede itself left a little to be desired this year, but it was still a lovely summer evening. And the fireworks made it all worth it for me. My husband and I also went to see one of the big summer blockbuster movies. We didn’t understand half of it, but that’s okay. The popcorn was excellent, and when we got home our son explained the entire plot to us.

My mom loves coming over to sit on our deck. Her apartment gets unbearably warm in the summer because she doesn’t have air conditioning, so bringing her here for the afternoon has become one of my favourite little routines. We usually stop for Starbucks on the way, and then she sits outside as long as she wants, enjoying the breeze and the flowers.

And the best part?

I still have seven more full weeks before I have to go back to work.

There are gardens to tend, books to read, walks to take, movies to watch, roses to admire, and probably a few more fireworks to enjoy.  Well maybe not fireworks but for sure, thunderstorms with lightning.

I’m planning on savouring every bit of it and holding these summer memories close to my heart… so that when January arrives, I can pull them out again and live on them for a while.