Saturday, October 26


It's supposed to rain on our wedding day.
Not just any type of raining.  A howling, freezing rain.  Just warm enough not to snow, but cold enough to chill you to the tailbone. Cold enough where you look at each other and mouth, "Oh my g-g-god."

It is literally sunshine, sunshine, sunshine, sunshine, all through November.  And then the day before our day, the storm will roll in.  It will roll across the desert, or perhaps it will puddle, my friends and loved ones a bowl of soup.  And two days after the wedding, sunshine, sunshine, sunshine, sunshine, all of the rest of the month.  

I once heard the quote, "Neither you or your disappointment is caused by the rain."

With that said, I can't help but feel the well in my chest after viewing the little sunshine cliparts turn to silver daggers across my screen.  This is disappointment in the raw, my clever details on wet paper.  I knew this idea would be abstract, but that was the way it had to be.  It's the only thing that really made sense to me.  Laying in my bed, my angst a heavy blanket, I try to call Duncan.  He is asleep, fast asleep.  I sent a little woe-is-me text to my maid of honor, and she is quick to call me at 11:47pm.  As my sister just put it, "This day called out to you guys. It had to be this day."  But this day was supposed to be the idea that defeated all odds, a warmer cold, a cool clear sky.  We have just put in so much work, especially our parents, and it's been so warm.  The last 30 days at least, have been indian summer.

Oh and how it's about to turn.  And all I can do is stand my ground, rise to it and blow it down.

I have gone into lots of little trinkety shops in the last couple weeks.  Searching for a cake topper that I can picture pulling out of a box up high someday.  I'm always thinking long term, thinking of the reaction, not so much the happening itself.  I don't picture it on the cake, I picture my future grandchildren pulling it out of a box.  May sound like an enduring trait, but it's actually a habit in my head I've come to loathe entirely.  I wish I could switch the gears in my soul to rotate the opposite direction, so I can pick out a cake topper that would just look nicely with the cake, simply and beautifully, and it would be done.  

I have averaged this repeating conversation about 2-3 times a day, and it is becoming pretty regular:

Shopmaker: "Where are you getting married?"
Me: "In the desert."
Shopmaker: Face of complete shock.  Pause.  For five seconds.  Then, "That is so, risky.  That is so amazing though."

And that's what I thought.  There is a fire in my heart that wants to marry him in the desert, and all the people I love packed around us in the desolate.  Stuffed with warm food, dancing drunk in the middle of nowhere, and seeing everyone's faces rosy from laughter.  And everyone knows it might snow, or maybe perhaps soaked with rain.  But they will be warmed by the bonfire, pocket whiskey, and awful dance moves.  But man, it will be cold.  At least I really hope they know.  And even though I have faith in most everyone's traveling competence, I hope not a single person will make the journey to Central Oregon if it is too dangerous.  Our hearts will miss you wholey, but will thaw.  I hope everyone's okay that the tent might blow across the plain.

Between reading a less than what I dreamt weather forecast and a fiance with a freshly broken ankle, I have found myself looking out the window into the dark and questioning why, me?  Why us?  Why now?  But then I think, of course.  And thank God.  Because these things, they are just okay, okay?  Think of all the things that really could be wrong.  But don't think of those, because who could want to?  Even though there are nicks and forthcoming storms, we are harbored.  

I wonder why I search for a caketopper when there may be 10 people there thanks to closed highways (and with that, about 150 steaks in abundance).  10 whole, freezing people may see our cake topper.  I just keep going about things like we are having an early summer wedding in a warm safe shelter. I keep believing that the best memories I have were ones that involved the crazy weather, a hint of fear, slight unpreparedness, and love in my heart.  I am literally delirious, but I'm not allowed to completely know yet.