Three weeks ago today, I had turned our master bedroom into a bridal suite, where the bride and the mothers would gather to get ready for the wedding.
And what a glorious four hours we spent together! Mimosas and pastries. Curling each other’s hair and applying makeup. Fluffing tulle on the wedding dress. Using Google Translate to carry on a conversation with the groom’s mom from Romania. Visiting with my sister and her daughter, who were also in the room. All of us giddy with excitement and nerves, until finally, we were ready.
And then, the bride went downstairs to meet the chauffeur of the vintage car that would transport her to the wedding.
For most of Calgary, it was just another Friday afternoon. But for us, it was a dream come true.
All those weeks and months spent gathering props for the venue, sewing table coverings and ceremony drapes, baking sweets, finding dresses, and designing flowers for the outdoor setting had finally culminated in one perfect day of celebration and joy.
The floral arrangements looked right at home in the forest venue Lexie had chosen for her big day. Everything was wonderfully, magically foresty. The bride herself looked like a nymph who had wandered out of Narnia or Middle-earth. The floral table coverings rippled in the breeze like something out of a fairytale.
And the grazing buffet? It would have pleased Marie Antoinette. We even had three cakes, if you catch my drift.
Our closest family and friends gathered in a clearing in the woods to witness Lexie and Red’s soulful vows, hear their love story, and share in our joy.
And now, only three weeks later, it all seems like a distant, beautiful memory.
Autumn is upon us, and everyone has returned to their routines. Work. School. Startup meetings and gatherings. Yard cleanups. Leaves turning colour and fluttering to the ground. A certain crispness in the air. A propensity to make soups and pies. Fireplaces being coaxed back to life. The scent, not of May Day trees, but of campfires, filling the air. Puffer coats brought to the front of the closets.
Life goes on.
And isn’t that the curious thing about life? We spend months anticipating something wonderful, pouring our hearts, our energy, our creativity, and sometimes our very souls into making it happen. And then, almost in the blink of an eye, it’s over. The flowers are gone, the dresses are hung back in closets, the guests have returned home, and the world carries on as though nothing extraordinary has happened.
Except that something extraordinary did happen.
A daughter got married. Two families became one. Promises were made beneath a canopy of trees. Memories were created that will be told and retold for years to come.
And somewhere in the midst of an ordinary October afternoon, while the leaves fall and the soup simmers, I find myself smiling at the memory of it all.
Three weeks ago, we were living a fairytale.
Today, we’re simply living.
And really, that’s rather lovely, too.
