The End

We walked up to the door of our reception, and I started asking around after my family.  “Where’s my sister?” I asked – I was really concerned that she be the one to bustle my train, for tradition and all.  They hadn’t arrived, and when they still hadn’t shown up a few minutes later, my illustrious (volunteer) coordinator bustled my train and shooed us in the door – everyone was lined up and waiting to cheer us onto the dance floor, and we couldn’t wait any longer.  We swept into the room surrounded by cheers and high fives, and moved straight onto the dance floor and into our first dance – to Skylark, by Johnny Mercer (played by our small jazz band).  Immediately afterwards, the Professor and his mother danced to What A Wonderful World This Would Be – the one that goes “Don’t know much about history, don’t know much biology, but I do know that I love you, and I know that if you love me too what a wonderful world this would be.”

What followed was the most overstimulating, exciting, painfully swift few hours of my life.  I was surrounded by people I dearly loved, and approached from all corners by same, and I longed to sit and talk for hours with each.  My parents and siblings arrived shortly after the dances – they’d had to make an emergency run back to our way-far-away house for a forgotten item, and then nearly ran out of gas.  They got us seated at our sweetheart table with lots of food and wine, and then everyone sat and had the meal.  We had a buffet of sides, several carving stations of different meats, and lots of appetizers that we of course totally missed (but I hear they were great).  Anyway, we had a few bites and then made our rounds ’round the room, to see all of the people who had traveled from far and wide to be with us.  All you had to do was look at our program to see how diverse the crowd was.  Our attendants were from Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, North Carolina, South Carolina, Montana, Kentucky, New York, Idaho, and Indiana.  We had friends fly in from England . . . from California . . . from Colorado . . . Minnesota – the list goes on.  I was so pleased I almost burst, to look around a room full of faces and know them all – love them all – it was bittersweet.  You realize how much you miss them, and how much time has passed, when you try to catch up on the news since you last met.  I barely had time to scratch the surface.

But hey, that’s what’s to be expected, and nobody demanded any different.  So we gave each little cluster of loved ones our five minutes, eventually splitting up to catch them all.  It was insufficient, but it was great to see them all.  My dad did his toast, where he played a very touching song called “I Loved Her First” by Heartland, then we danced our first dance (to a recording I did in high school of “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore”).  The Professor’s dad did his toast, telling the story of how we met, and my sister did hers, telling a little of our sibling history, and the good times she and the Professor and I have had together.  We cut the smooshy falling-down cake – it was about to slide off the plate – and I got the Professor good.  He repayed me with a little dot on the nose,with admirable restraint.  We did the twisty arms drinking toast thing, and I threw the bouquet (to all the women, not just the single ones – I figured none of my single girlfriends needed any pressure from me about getting married, I know they get plenty from their mothers).  Then the photographer pulled me aside and said she had to leave soon, but hadn’t gotten any photos of us dancing together, and asked if we wanted to get on the dance floor for a while before she left?  What a great photographer, I loved her.

So we danced.  And danced.  It was great.  My sister’s boyfriend had made a mix for us to play after the band left, and I think some of my bridesmaids were hitting the crack pipe or something, because some of the crazy wild air guitar that happened on that dance floor was just out of control.  It was excellent.  At the beginning of the evening no one was really dancing, and I was worried at first that I was having a lame wedding, but by the end we were all sweaty and tired and smiling from shaking it.  I think the photographer got some good pictures – she was right up in the action – and she even stayed over a little.  The Professor and I danced to what we call our “real” first dance – I Believe in a Thing Called Love by The Darkness.  It was great, just too short.

At the end of the evening, everyone spontaneously got in another long line to cheer us out the doors.  We had given everyone straw hand fans with low country crab boil spices tied to them.  The spices were wrapped in colored tissue paper, and everyone grabbed their fan favors and waved them at us as we left.  It was a very colorful and fun exit.

I’ll show you pictures of all the design choices I made.  I think it’s a bit too boring to sit here and explain them all – in general my theme was a fall cornucopia, I had lots of fruit everywhere (even in my bouquet – people thought it was weird but I loved it, though it made the thing weigh about fifty pounds).  There were three different centerpieces, lots of candles, and I had a wall full of pictures of everyone involved in the wedding – baby pix of my siblings, pictures of the Professor and his guy friends when they were younger and had bad haircuts.  Pictures of my long dead grandparents, holding me as a baby.  In one corner we had a slideshow of baby pictures, as you do, and I was given a copy to keep, which I love to watch.  Everything, from the fleeting glimpses I caught of it all, was perfect.

And now I’m ready to put it to bed and move on.

Until I get my pictres next week!