Shelter

I looked out of my kitchen window that morning to find a lazy sun that turned the hay fields into waves of shimmery gold. I didn’t know it, but it would be the last golden weekend of the summer before the rain hit, ushering in the fall season.

It was my wedding day, and it was perfect.

I sat in my kitchen alone in a tank top and ripped jeans, sipping my coffee and letting the reality of the coming hours sink in.
I knew that this day had come so close to being just like any other day because of my traitorous body, and I breathed prayers of thankfulness into the quiet space.
It was beginning.

My wedding day passed in a warm twinkling blur.

I opened my front door to bright light and a pathway full of sunflowers and poetry handwritten by my sister. I followed them all the way next door to the house where my family waited.

My friends arrived, fall colored and shining.
My grandmothers came in and hugged me, their combined hearts encouraging mine to truly live as they have.

My mother zipped the dress she’d helped create, gently fixing my curls and pinning my flower crown in place.

I saw him standing on the bridge on the edge of the woods.

The barn was alive with sunflowers and daisies.

We stood in a yellow field as the time came closer, reveling in the golden hour.

Our friends stood beside us in the wildwood.

My father offered me his strong arm as we walked down aisles of faces I loved, then offered mine to him before turning around and leading us in the words that would bind us for all of our lives.

We pledged love and honor in sickness and in health, until death takes us.

My brother and sister spoke from their hearts and straight into mine.

My heart swelled as the hours passed.

I had dreamed of what this day would be like for so many years. That elusive dream was a shapeshifter, one that had eventually left me altogether.
When I met him, I still didn’t quite believe that it could come back, but he brought it back – freer and more beautiful than it had ever been before.
I found an earthly love that gave my mind freedom, gave my heart shelter.
A love full of picnics in the open fields. Guitars on the riverbank. Walks in the rain. Driftwood forts. Cavernous rooms, moss covered pathways and crumbling ladders. Stargazing. Quiet talks on the maker of the stars. Miles eaten up by tires and adventures to places we’ve never seen.
A love full of kindness day after day while I watched the world through my windows, unable to move beyond my front doors.
A love full of patience during hard nights spent laying on the couch, waiting for the waves to be still.
This was love.

“Are you ready?”
He took my hand and looked down at me.
I didn’t trust myself to speak. I nodded.
We ran out into the night.
The sky was alive with pale arms raised in the darkness.
The air moved around us, the dying summer touching our flushed skin as the dried leaves of a turning season rained down on us from the hands of the loved.

His happy yells filled the car as we left the shouts of the crowd behind in the dark, and tears mingled with my laughter.
No longer was that dream a shifting wisp of smoke. It sat beside me in a green bow tie.