Of all the previous hectic days leading up to this big day, none can compare in terms of hecticness. After getting engaged, the initial rush was to get the invitations out. That, we thought, would be the biggest milestone to check off. Little did we know that that was only the beginning. After the assembly line production of putting together invitation packets, tying bows, stuffing envelopes, and affixing postage, we felt the burden lift when the bundles were finally dropped off at the post office. But after that, things crept slowly at first, and little by little, without even us noticing at first, we were hurled along, as if we’re standing on a rock as it accelerates to gravity toward a glass floor. We can see the other side, sort of, and later today, we’ll crash through and be on the other side.
This day is here. It begins with getting up early. The ladies start out with hairstyling and make-up. There is last minute packing to do as well, along with so many other things, from making phone calls to putting together the final timeline for the day. Auntie Plerm, for one, says that there is no way we will stick to the timeline. We’ll try.
We are late for our first real appointment—that is, everyone in the wedding party. The noon meeting time came and went, and it’s nearly 12:30 before the party assembles in the dressing rooms. The photographers and videographers run back and forth between the rooms to capture the bride’s and the groom’s party as they get dressed. Then come the portrait sessions: the first look, him, her, wedding party, family, relatives. The limo arrives on time, and we get more pictures there. Jeff says a really nice prayer of blessing out on the front lawn of the church.
The 3:00 start time also came and went. The coordinator, Brittany, texts: “guests are still streaming in.” It was decided, not by us, that we will start late. Barth can tell that this turn of events is quite vexing and reassures that everything is OK. “Weddings are supposed to start late.”
The ceremony itself goes pretty much just as planned—almost. The candles to the right decide not to stay lit. The flower petals run out halfway down the aisle. The bridal processional downbeat gets fumbled. Yan gets burned by hot wax from the unstable candle during the unity lighting ceremony. And as predicted by Auntie Plerm, the whole thing runs late by nearly a half hour.
After the recessional, along with the bridesmaids and the best man, we hop into the limo and speed off to the reception at the Pacific Palms Resort. Traffic is not bad. The rest of the wedding party catches up, and we all pose for more shots at the old train station overlooking the valley. There is a picturesque fountain in the middle of the golf course where Ryan takes more pictures of us. It is a place where one can image swans to be serenading by.
The reception itself is a blur. The room is lit up in purple and lavender. The Deejay Denny manages the PA system. Mark announces the entrance and switches the names of Aimee and Susan. Most of the guests wouldn’t notice anyways. The slideshow of growing-up pictures, first of Yan, then of Danny, then together, projects on the giant screen. After prayer, Rob blasts out a fanfare for the food parade. Dinner is underway. Andy gives a very nice speech—with both of us in his life, he’s assured that everything will be taken care of, and he can kick back and relax. Along with parents and siblings, we table visit. This is extremely rushed, and many conversations had to be cut short; otherwise, we would not be able to make it around to see everyone. Along with everything else, the cake cutting starts off about a half hour late.
With the grand exit, we crash through to the other side. Now, we finally dress down, see off our families, and sit down, breathe, and get a bite to eat.
