When we first started planning our wedding, we didn't really know what we were doing. Sure we'd been to our friends' weddings but hadn't paid much attention to details like chair set-ups or music or stemware. So when we sat down to talk about what we wanted our day to look like, we had only one goal in mind: we wanted it to feel like us. Nothing forced. Nothing to appease someone else or for the sake of an uncertain tradition. Throwing a bouquet and the whole garter thing wouldn't feel like me so we ditched it. Stuffy venues and fussy catered meals wouldn't do. In the end, we were lucky to stumble upon an incredible working farm on Whidbey Island, had a big family-style Southern meal at a long table under the stars, and some real-deal cake. Not the dainty slices of fondant-draped jewels you often see in wedding magazines. We had big slices of coconut cake.
A few months ago I showed you a glimpse into our wedding day, compiled from cell phone photos we'd managed to gather from friends and family. Then on Christmas Eve we received a package from our photographers with all of our photos. It was quite the early Christmas present, and I'd be remiss in letting 2014 come to a quiet close without sharing them with you. Looking back at these photos, what really strikes me are all of the moments that I simply don't remember -- or, frankly, wasn't there for. It looks like quite a party! As with many weddings, I suppose, we were pulled aside for photos every now and again and were trying to make sure to talk to each of our guests, many who'd traveled quite a long ways to come to Whidbey Island to help us celebrate. So there were dance-offs, cocktail circles and polaroid sessions that we just never saw ... until these photos. I've loved flipping through and looking at that golden September sunshine, all of our friends and family eating cake, dancing, meeting one another, drinking cocktails. Yes, there's a cocktail we must discuss here, too.
Friends, it has been a long time. But I'm back to report that on a sunny mid-September day just over a month ago, Sam and I made it official. We got married on a farm on Whidbey Island, just off the coast of Seattle with friends and family beside us from near and far. There are so many details I want to share with you, but the one thing I'm most proud of when I think back to that Saturday is that we both managed to stay present and really experience the day together. It was my one request of Sam, of each other: that we not let any concerns about family, friends, seating charts or how the dessert table would look come into our minds that afternoon. I wanted to trust that with all of the planning behind us, the rest would come together behind the scenes somehow. And magically it did (I will never forget watching out the upstairs window of the house as I was getting my hair done while our friend Molly was running up and down the farm road setting up signs and balloons with our friend and officiant, Ben. I believe Sam and Brandon were down the road a bit, too, doing the same. I was stuck inside at that point, smiling and thinking: Yes! Gooooo, Team) I'd heard that the day itself goes by in a blur, and you're lucky if you have a chance to truly talk with even a handful of your guests. I'd also been advised to elect someone to make sure that we had dinner and a drink because it'd be impossible to facilitate that (we had a family style dinner so that wasn't a problem BUT we joke in looking back that we were more sober that night than on an average weekend and that we hardly remember about 50% of the food). But in the midst of all that blur -- the hugs and tears and toasts -- there was so much true, true clarity that I'll be ever thankful for.
I've been dreading writing my vows for months now -- much in the same way I dreaded writing term papers or tackling really big, looming projects. To cope with the fact that I wasn't yet actually writing anything down on paper, I bought different journals, thinking the problem was that I didn't have the right note-taking vehicle. I bought a little black Moleskine. Still wasn't feeling inspired. I picked up an Indian-print handmade paper journal at the student bookstore in the University District. It collected dust. I pulled out an old notebook covered in a print of Babar the Elephant doing yoga -- surely this would be the ticket. Sadly, not so much. I finally pinpointed what my problem was: I had no idea what writing vows even looks like. I knew it was important to both of us that we do so, but most of the weddings I've been to have been pretty standard and I hadn't seen many examples of couples writing their own. Enter Google. YouTube. Enter deciding to give up for weeks on end. And then one night, I poured myself a cocktail and decided to make a batch of cookies. Sam was out with a friend and as I sat waiting for the cookies to bake, I started to miss him and think about all of the reasons I love his company. The vows wrote themselves that night. No Babar journal, no YouTube inspiration -- just the smell of warm walnut-flecked cookies and thoughts of why I looked forward to seeing Sam walk though the door.