What time is it?

The curtains are drawn, and I’m not used to the dark when I sleep - or rather the lack of light when I wake. Some quick visual clue as to what time it might be and where the hell I am would be nice. My back is killing me from sleeping with one pillow instead of two and a half, and there’s no cat on my head.

Mental light bulb –> illuminated. I’m in Asheville, North Carolina and it’s after 8am.

My feet hit the crushed hotel carpet and I try to shake myself awake. The Mc is already up and off to the lobby of the hotel for coffee that’s more expensive and less tasty than the locally grown organic that’s offered in our room. We’re saving that for when we get home; why is beyond me.

At a quarter of 10 I meet Danielle, Sarah and Amanda in the painfully bright lobby and we head to the back of the hotel and the parking lot. The reason we were there had arrived: tall, lean, and glowing.

She’s as amazing and beautiful as she ever was as her long legs pull her across the parking lot towards me. I’ve skipped ahead of the other girls by a few paces out of uncontrollable excitement.

When she’s within earshot she says her stomach hurts and she’s nervous, which she didn’t think she’d be.

The surprise nerves happen to every bride, I think. This isn’t any bride though, it’s our Gwen.

On the two block walk to the pre-determined brunch location in the crisp late September air, we’re all squawking and trying to reassure her with our own agendas. Passers by would only see pink puffs of love popping out of each of our mouths and enveloping her if looking at just the right angle.

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At brunch we sit around an L shaped table and toast her with champagne while Danielle expresses our shared sentiments to Gwen and her eyes well.

I want to push everyone away and nudge her over the wall she’s avoiding that won’t let her sob because I know all too well how cleansing it is to let it out…but I can’t and I don’t and I know that too, is just right.

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The Mc and I drive through the country and out to the farm as the day is slowing and preparing for night. We’re up a dusty dirt road at the top of a hill that’s in a valley of it’s own. Behind us is a wall of earth, to our left is a pond and in front of us is another wall of earth a good distance away that’s glaringly unspeckled by the reflective windows of houses littering it’s side. It’s clean and green and makes my heart happy.

On the right towards the rear of the field where the ceremony will take place there’s an old tractor parked and lost in time. Beyond it a hundred feet, chairs are set up in sides (though no one will take one) between what will later be the vow exchange area and the tractor is a tent under which half the attendees will enjoy dinner. Next to the tractor is a fire pit and as I’m suddenly aware of my bare legs and shoulders, I can’t help but think that later tonight I’m going to mate with the heat it will provide.

The barn is old and weathered and has green growing on some of its perfectly spaced boards. Inside the barn it’s pristine with more tables and service stations and flowers and I take it all in while watching her float around the property for pictures. I have to snap myself back to the paper I’ve been carrying around in my hand that reminds me I came early to help set up and make sure the little things are just right.

It’s hard to focus because I’m at peace and in love with damn near everything I see and I know exactly why she chose this place.

~~~~~~~~~

Greg waits and watches for her while I watch him and the smirk and the glow of a man in love. I squeeze The Mc’s hand a little tighter.

It’s a long walk from the barn to her groom but she’s there in no time at all on her fathers arm in her perfectly draped and clinging-in-all-the-right-places 50’s glamor inspired gown. She’s never looked more amazing and it wouldn’t matter if the sun set right this instant because her glow could light the whole damn state of North Carolina.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ceremony is blanketed by a calm that I can’t explain; nearly any words I’d attempt to use would only step on it.

It’s short and it’s oozing with love and genuine words of thanks and appreciation for parents and family and friends and my eyes are leaking like crazy. I can feel The Mc smiling at the love and laughing at me without looking at him. I’m fixated on eleven years of adoration reaching a milestone and being reborn.

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The rest of the evening is as wonderful as the beginning – with toasts and stories and a love that surrounded those two and could have lifted the barn off it’s footing if emotion had a physical presence and strength…and all I’m leaving you with is not much of anything except my own cherished thoughts of that night in the mountains, the two = one we celebrated and a dreamy hope that I took just a little of their spark with me through emotional osmosis.

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Congratulations on the new journey, my swooning little love birds.

Oh…and pictures are here.