Saturday, September 9, 2000

 

1:48 a.m. As you sit and wait for the wedding to begin, you can be forgiven for lapsing into dreams and reveries. Dulcet music is playing in the background and the white carpet is strewn with rose petals, and pristine.

As you can probably imagine from this photo, the wedding we went to tonight was extremely gorgeous, lavish, beautiful. Can you imagine a more wonderful tent or canopy (hupa) to get married within? And you can be sure that I checked: all those flowers were real, and fresh.

Ah, me. Igor and I put on our best duds and raced to Beverly Hills before the sunset, and we made it on time. We had great seats for the ceremony and the ceremony itself was so moving that I thought it might be a good idea to get married all over again, just to have such words spoken across the soft night air, floating slowly and smoothly up, up, twenty stories high, to the gently waving palms.

The young couple getting married were as beautiful as the setting, and they even looked like they were having fun at their own wedding. Everyone else had plenty of fun, I can report. I took a lot of pictures for the private files, danced a lot of dances, for old times' sake.

And now I will climb into bed, grateful that I'm married. Daily life, simple life, little gestures and small moments ... tonight's ceremony reminded me that they are also sacred mementos of true, wonderful love.

When I was fussing with the intricate clasp of my pearl necklace earlier this evening, I was thinking that I don't get really dressed up often enough. I have beautiful things that I don't wear often enough. And when I was taking the necklace off just a few minutes ago, grateful to be stepping down from four-inch heels, I was thinking that I don't appreciate the majesty and the dignity of my life often enough.

Dress hung up carefully for another time. Tuxedo back in its plastic wrap, ready for the next guy. Igor back on the couch, in shorts, crunching chips and watching horror movies.

Pearls still warm from my heartbeat. My life.