A wedding story

The raindrops started hitting the windshield about thirty seconds before we arrived at the beach where we were having our wedding ceremony. I am riding in the off-road limo with my parents—one of those cute Jeep Libertys, in dress black for the occasion, of course (but not easy to climb into in a wedding dress!). We arrive at the beach and all 30 guests are huddled under umbrellas and look forlorn against the backdrop of a frothy, bubbly blue-green sea the color of blue curaco-containing cocktail as it leaves the blender. I start waving frantically from the front seat for them all to enter the beach. There’s some commotion as we hadn’t actually planned in which order the moms would, “enter” the beach. Even though there was no church aisle or even any seats, my dad walked me onto the beach, gallantly leading me through the ruts made by what looked like a four-wheeler. The smell of the sea hit me full in the face as gale like winds frothed the normally tranquil bayside Cape Cod Sea into a seafoam green frenzy. I reach the justice of the peace and my gorgeous groom and turn to see our families and friends at a polite distance from the makeshift alter. We encourage them all to huddle in closer and the Justice of the Peace can barely be heard above the sound of the wind. Friends are pattering around in the sand to take pictures and half of my hairdo comes unstuck—truly a testament to the power of Mother Nature as there I-don’t-know-how-many coats of hairspray on my coiffed ‘do. We guide our four readers into the landing area, and it’s very intimate indeed as Pepe and Anne read in French, Rob quips a line speaking of tempests and Gisela reads in Singaporean Chinese and English. I tear up during the Apache Indian wedding prayer and I can’t help by kiss my Julito before the Justice says, “I now pronounce you husband and wife”. But we kissed after too! I turn to see all of our dear family and friends huddled together and shivering facing angry wind-driven raindrops and salt spray just for us! The image wasn’t one of the many that were digitally captured that weekend, but it remains etched in my mind like the smell of sea as I hit the beach, the sand in between my toes in my pink ballerina slippers and the roar of the wind.