So now that I'm engaged I think about marriage, but it just seems surreal and nebulous, more of an abstraction than an event. But a wedding, why, a wedding is corporal, sensual! All of my senses are on high alert. Ideas flutter about and I tuck them into my pocket, to see how they fit, how they feel:
Wildflowers gathered in mason jars, my mother's faded cream wedding dress from 1972 (a 'union made' tag stitched inside), exchanging vows outside in September sunlight on waxy-fresh grass.
After the school-yard ceremony, a parade down Humboldt Street, noisemakers and trumpet and hand drums, announcing our love to the neighbors. My dear friends, the ones I see often and hardly, parents and siblings, his family not quite mine yet, a couple of our sweetest students, with bare feet and pimples.
A party at our home, swept clean, doors open, and simply decorated with candles and pink satin ribbons blowing in the warm Santa Ana winds.
I can practically taste the blackberry vanilla cream cake and almond champagne. See the twinkling lights as dusk bruises the sky. Hear Dr. Hook croon Years from now, I want you years from now during our first wedded dance. 'Trip the light fantastic' is how M described dancing on a long ago afternoon, our romance just beginning to blossom.