June 4, 2016 was one for the books.
In the backyard of her parents’ home, just where Pride’s Crossing meets the Atlantic, one of my oldest friends became a Mrs. Before the ceremony, an ethereal fog floated off the water and right through their chuppah, misting its way down the velvet-petaled isle. Moments later, as a veiled S and her father rode a cloud toward her groom, I couldn’t help but feel a physical harmony between the warm mist and their musical accompaniment; Somewhere Over The Rainbow was a truly inspired, serendipitous choice, indeed.
There was a happy smooch and smashed glass, unforgettable burrata and a tree-laden tent. Together we toasted to new chapters, growing families, and all of the adventures yet to come. In terms of times, I hugged the happy couple perhaps a few too many, teared up at what seemed like the most random of (who knew seeing them cut the cake would do it to me?), and danced the horah for my official first. The billowing silk tent could hardly contain such potent love as it twisted, shouted, and sailed its way into a perfectly magical marriage.
congratulations, s + d. you are lovely, and oh so very loved.