Wednesday, March 18, 2009


I am making centerpieces like I once made summer dresses, with an amateur's enthusiasm. 

Dad is walking me down the aisle. I have a watermelon in my throat and flowers in my hand. Scott and I are laughing for the posed photographs and dancing for the candids.

My thoughts run this perpetual relay race nearly every night. This wedding is like a clown in the children's ward of a hospital, an invited distraction, because when I am not planning the twenty sixth of September, I am asking Scott where we will be unpacking on the first of September.