At around this time last year, two of my sisters and I flew into Boston for our cousin’s wedding. We hung around Logan International long enough for our uncle to fly in from Florida and then entrusted our lives to my sister Stephanie and streams of strangers with Massachusetts license plates.
As navigator, I got a front seat in the rental car and the opportunity to be frightened first as my sister tackled the aggressive traffic. We were headed to Cape Cod. To this day, I have no real sense of the distance involved; only that the preceding plane ride was much shorter and minus the sudden brake slams. One of those “it’ll bond ya or break ya” experiences…
Stephanie displayed the heart of a Bostonian driver -impressive for a Midwest native- but when she almost clipped a garbage truck that didn’t really care that she had the right-of-way, Kathleen and I took refuge in our cell phones. I texted her a photo of Steph hunched over the wheel. She shot back the terrified faces of the back seat passengers. I sent her a serene self portrait, leaning out the car window, my hair blowing in the smoggy wind. We were totally and unapologetically obnoxious, but it made the trip go a lot faster. Well, for us it did; probably not the case for Steph who could only endure my “smile!” admonishments with no real retaliation capabilities. Wish I’d gotten some video too…
My extended family’s get-togethers had been relegated to funerals the past few years, so the chance to celebrate together was especially sweet. -And to “play” in someone else’s town is truly a vacation. There’s something about being within someone’s created living space that brings their essence added dimension: the funny books in cousin Holly’s guest bathroom; the vision of “home” that my cousin Spencer and his wife are bringing to life; the eclectic yet graceful gathering of found and created treasures my Aunt Sue displays as living art in her home. I found myself inspired and renewed at every turn that weekend.
The bride-to-be talked us into an Atlantic dip. Hot sand. Frigid sea. A sensory contrast that blasted my breath right out of me… Laura and I walked the beach and caught up on her new life, stopping to add to a couple of the beach sculptures created with “found objects” by passers-by. I felt very much enfolded in the “artistic” that whole weekend. From the sea glass artfully strewn across the top of my aunt’s patio table to the sand patterns on the beach… Renewing. Refreshing…
The wedding took place on a sandy bluff overlooking the vast Atlantic.
The Beachcomber on Cahoon Hollow beach is a Cape Cod landmark. Live entertainment and an incredible menu make it the summer hang-out for beachgoers on the Cape. We just call it Todd and Holly’s place.
Hang-gliders swept the sky to the south of the wedding party. Laura wore flip flops and added a denim jacket over her wedding dress when the chill of autumn bit in. Mark’s brother officiated; their kids shared words and music as their attendants. The sea sparkled as we wiggled our toes in warm sand. I love beach weddings.
We reminisced about that wonderful weekend for weeks afterward, promising ourselves to get together more frequently because it’s always so much fun!!!! Holly and my Aunt Sue have been here to Columbus a couple of times since. We talked about getting together this past summer, but schedules intruded. We’ll keep trying, I hope.
“Happy Anniversary Mark and Laura!”