I’m so dizzy, my head is spinnin’
I was ready for the wedding with eleven minutes to spare.
The hubs was off capturing the moments with his camera, so I found a seat near the back. Nine months of panic drifted away when I heard the woman in front of me utter, “I knew this was going to be a country wedding, but I expected corn fields. This is gorgeous.”
I willed myself to be still, took a deep breath and drank it all in — the sanctuary I had so lovingly tended for years, the bright red cardinals that appeared out of nowhere, the gentle guitar music, the golden sunlight, the beautiful gowns. I couldn’t fight the tears.
God, I hope Ray can see this.
The rest of the evening was lovely. The weather perfect, the food divine, the people loving and appreciative.
Joyful.
The week had been a whirlwind, though, and it was barely dark before I ran out of small talk. Before I even knew what hit me, I found myself horizontal on the couch. To the sound of live music, friends who had played here before, I drifted off into the most contented sleep.
I didn’t move until 5 or 6 the next morning, just as my husband wandered in. We had encouraged people to camp, and he, a night owl, had taken full advantage of the opportunity to socialize.
I was the only one up as I sipped my coffee and strolled around the yard, checking on my flowers, enjoying the memories and the enormous sense of relief that it was finally over.
It had just occurred to me that my only regret was not spending more time with my newish friend Kat, when just like that she appeared. She asked for a tour of the gardens, which I was more than happy to provide, of course, and then after Bailey’s and good coffee she said the words I’d never dreamed I’d hear…
“I love your rock garden.”
Holy crap, we did it! We actually pulled it off!
In fact, before it was said and done, both the caterer and the photographer approached Insideout about the possibility of future events…
And now, six weeks later, my head has finally stopped spinning.
