There was a two hour period between the wedding and the reception and we were all child-less for the evening. Feeling deceived by the non-promising spring equinox we quickly trotted across the street from the chapel to the bar. "Is that snow? Is that actually winter precipitation? Again?" we asked ourselves as a chilly breeze ripped down Sherman Avenue, cutting through Kelly and my skirts and tights. The sun had only peeked out once from the cloud locked sky and that had been earlier at 8:30 am. Once inside we sat at the bar, Ben and Pat with tall glasses of beautiful darkness and Kelly and I splitting a decadent Cuvee Des Jacobins Rouge. We counted down the weeks until a second PatKelly baby would be joining our Tuesday night dinners. We shuddered and sipped our beers, savoring a few moments without the demands of rocking a car seat or gently bouncing a growing babe.
The church bells across the street were playing Great is Thy Faithfulness when we entered the reception venue across from the church. The tone of the bells, slightly askew by the time the sound hit my ear drums, was like vinegar cutting through oil on such a dreary, cold April day. On the arm of a striking beard-man, we entered into a cozy wooden room with white lights strung loosely around the perimeter. Ben's mom and Karen cooking pork loin and roasting sweet potatoes in the kitchen, the sound of Pat's laughter coming from Table #9, Wendy writing a blessing for the newly weds with a silver paint pen, the punchy giggling between two sleep deprived friends, conversations regarding bow ties and the fate of chandeliers... just to name a few moments that I am savoring from the weekend.
The church bells across the street were playing Great is Thy Faithfulness when we entered the reception venue across from the church. The tone of the bells, slightly askew by the time the sound hit my ear drums, was like vinegar cutting through oil on such a dreary, cold April day. On the arm of a striking beard-man, we entered into a cozy wooden room with white lights strung loosely around the perimeter. Ben's mom and Karen cooking pork loin and roasting sweet potatoes in the kitchen, the sound of Pat's laughter coming from Table #9, Wendy writing a blessing for the newly weds with a silver paint pen, the punchy giggling between two sleep deprived friends, conversations regarding bow ties and the fate of chandeliers... just to name a few moments that I am savoring from the weekend.
This post makes me sad I don't live in Chicago
ReplyDeleteWe wish you were around too. But that cute little house of yours!!!
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