They were so pissed at us.
It wasn't the twenty-five minute hike to the perfect alcove covered in a slick carpet of dark moss. that changed their colors, ankle-down. No. It was because the ceremony lasted only ten.
We didn't care. The spot jumped out on a hike and we knew, like only two could know, that it was the spot that was blessed for our love. Blessed for our union. Fireflies danced by in troupes. There were bells dripping from branches and love notes tacked to bark.
A fire burned while his family wished we'd just gone to the courthouse. Mine would never forgive that we skipped the church.
But this was our perfect moss field. This was our altar built with willow love and colored with marigolds and holding every ancient deity we could find. We didn't want to leave anyone out. They were candles to burn and our Oms to chant and our hands to hold. Wasn't that enough?
It turns out that it didn't matter whether anyone was there or not. Once we met in the middle, our eyes locked and we never once looked anywhere else. The sun came through the trees and people gasped at the beauty, but we had our own. All I could see was my future in his eyes. The someday little ones that were to come. The dingy old trailer we'd camp in at the Jalama beach. The long labors and the all-night nursing and how he'd get up to change their diapers and let me sleep, always. That man.
There were no vows. Just a promise to always remember how beautiful that moment was, and every moment would be. To never hold each other from our dreams. Ever. And to tie on each other's wings so we could fly so high.
It wasn't the twenty-five minute hike to the perfect alcove covered in a slick carpet of dark moss. that changed their colors, ankle-down. No. It was because the ceremony lasted only ten.
We didn't care. The spot jumped out on a hike and we knew, like only two could know, that it was the spot that was blessed for our love. Blessed for our union. Fireflies danced by in troupes. There were bells dripping from branches and love notes tacked to bark.
A fire burned while his family wished we'd just gone to the courthouse. Mine would never forgive that we skipped the church.
But this was our perfect moss field. This was our altar built with willow love and colored with marigolds and holding every ancient deity we could find. We didn't want to leave anyone out. They were candles to burn and our Oms to chant and our hands to hold. Wasn't that enough?
It turns out that it didn't matter whether anyone was there or not. Once we met in the middle, our eyes locked and we never once looked anywhere else. The sun came through the trees and people gasped at the beauty, but we had our own. All I could see was my future in his eyes. The someday little ones that were to come. The dingy old trailer we'd camp in at the Jalama beach. The long labors and the all-night nursing and how he'd get up to change their diapers and let me sleep, always. That man.
There were no vows. Just a promise to always remember how beautiful that moment was, and every moment would be. To never hold each other from our dreams. Ever. And to tie on each other's wings so we could fly so high.
And so we did.
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