What does a picture say?
We’ve known each other thirty-four years. We now have ten kids between the two of us.
When I saw her walking down the aisle, it was the first time I had seen her in eight years, since my wedding, and it felt like ten minutes. The pictures I have of E. walking down the aisle are a bit blurry because I was sobbing under my sunglasses. To see her happy, to see her joy, squeezed my chest until there was actual pain. That is how much I love this woman.
I looked at her children standing up for their parents, the three boys on one side, the four girls on the other and wondered how they’ll do it. The oldest is a senior in college, the youngest is five. They all walked into the wedding to the Brady Bunch theme song. And we laughed.
I danced in some red Kate Spade sandals with a four inch cork heel until my toe began to bleed. And I didn’t feel it.
We danced to the Dixie Chicks “Cowboy Take Me Away” because when her mother passed away I told her to listen to the words. Friday night, E. dedicated it to me and we danced.
As I sat outside with her younger sister, the closest I have to a younger sister myself, and we talked about her life, a praying mantis walked across her dress. I put out my hand and the mantis walked up my arm and stared at me. Normally freaked out by bugs, I brought it over to a flower and tried to set it down. It crawled up my shoulder and stopped. It turned its two large, glossy eyes toward me and looked.
I scooped it back up and brought it over to the flower not before saying quietly to her, “she’s going to be okay”. Twenty minutes later, inside, my husband pulled it off of me again and brought it outside. Apparently her mom just wanted to make sure I was paying attention.
We left New York with a bird house that was on one of the tables, and a feeling that all was right with one of my dearest friends. Her life will be crazy with seven kids, but I only needed one moment to see the way she looked at her new husband to know.
She is home.