6.26.2010: day 122

Aunt Nancy and I went around the bend to get some breakfast before the festivities.
This was the view outside the restaurant.
A bit later, I practiced the poem I was supposed to read at the ceremony. By the time I stood up and made my way to the bride and groom, I could barely hold it together, let alone speak. So, I asked everyone for help, which they very kindly gave, and I umm...conducted...yeah... It was lovely, although unintended.

Here's the poem, by the way:

Coming Home
by Mary Oliver

When we're driving, in the dark,
on the long road
to Providencetown, which lies empty
for miles, when we're weary,
when the buildings
and the scrub pine lose
their familiar look,
I imagine us rising
from the speeding car,
I imagine us seeing
everything from another place -- the top
of one of the pale dunes
or the deep and nameless
fields of the sea --
and what we see is the world
that cannot cherish us
but which we cherish,
and what we see is our life
moving like that,
along the dark edges
of everything -- the headlights
like lanterns
sweeping the blackness --
believing in a thousand
fragile and unprovable things,
looking out for sorry,
slowing down for happiness,
making all the right turns
right down to the thumping
barriers to the sea,
the swirling waves,
the narrow streets, the houses,
the past, the future,
the doorway that belongs
to you and me.

After the wedding, the photographer, the wedding party, and a few others, drove around for some photo opps. At one point, V set her bouquet on the rocks.

Celebrating with a little YMCA.