Snapshot in time, middle of October, 2008 & 2017

Snapshot in time, middle of October, 2008 & 2017

I chose the date strategically. Because who doesn’t want to get married surrounded by the vibrant colors of fall? Reds, oranges, yellows, browns, with a hint of green still hanging on. There’s still the warm from summer mixed with the cool breeze of Autumn. There were chrysanthemums bought at the farmers market. Apples bought at the local fruit farm. A little pergola in a tiny park tucked in an old Victorian town. There was duck food wrapped prettily for the guests, because there were ducks waddling and enjoying the cool waters from the natural spring. There’s always a risk with weather in October. But this day was perfect. Not too many and not too few. Our friends stood and said beautiful things about us and about marriage. We laughed and cried at their words. Friends read passages from favorite texts. There was sunshine and there was noise from the town traffic. I wonder now who might have been driving by or walking through the park that day to steal a peek at our fun. There was no driving from ceremony to reception, just a short walk down a tiny road to the old town mill-turned-restaurant. Cozy and intimate and warm. There was no grand entrance or bouquet thrown or garter tossed. Just everyone we loved there to celebrate with us.

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That was almost a decade ago. This year we spent that day mostly in the way we do now: busy and hurried, forgetting to slow down and appreciate one another. But there was a surprise picnic, coordinated with the help of dear friends who loves us so much. And on this second weekend in October, when nine years ago we were celebrating our love with friends, this year we celebrated our love as of family of three, enjoying all of the pleasures of fall. These little moments are just that. Nothing profound happened that day or this weekend. But it’s these little moments of joy that are so necessary for our hurried and anxious lives. The hay ride, the acres of pumpkins, the yellow flowers that made her sing, the mud and the hay that clung to my clothes, conversations with strangers, hearing her talk and talk and laugh, the homemade soup and whoopie pies, seeing an old friend, the corn maze, planting the seed from the apple, a friend’s homestead, the bearded dragons, the cats, the friendly horses, the conversation. There wasn’t anything particularly remarkable about it all, but somehow it was so very remarkable. A lovely anniversary weekend, unintended to be.

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About Gina Marie Thompson

writer • mom • trail runner • cheese slinger • educator • social justice crusader • seeker of love & beauty• living locally • I CHOOSE LOVE ❤️
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