Once again, a dip into this blog’s archives is a reminder of how much can change in two short years. This post, from June 8, 2009, chronicles the wedding of my daughter’s best friend. Since then, our daughter Anne met and married her husband, and her best friend had a baby. The young family spent an afternoon and evening with us last week when Anne and her hubby were here. Anne has graduated and will soon move to Ohio.
But one thing hasn’t changed – the constant, deep well of joy within my daughter – captured so well in this photograph. She is a woman of unconventional and uncommon contentment. And that, I pray, will never change.
The Wedding Dance
Anne’s best friend got married on Saturday. My daughter was bridesmaid dress creator and maid of honor. I was wedding photographer (under duress), and Hiram was our gal Friday, but please don’t say it to him in quite those words.
One week before the wedding, life was tense at our house. Two of the four bridesmaids had yet to try on their dresses for the first time. Anne’s room was a disaster area, strewn with purple cloth and lavender thread. I was a nervous wreck, envisioning potential camera disasters in every waking moment and having nightmares about them every night. I maintained sanity by taking so many deep, cleansing breaths I almost hyperventilated.
On the day of the wedding, Anne was still altering dresses until an hour before the ceremony. But when she walked down the aisle, she was lovely, calm, and collected. I didn’t have to look lovely and maintained a surface calm by snapping over a thousand pictures, assuming that the more I took, the greater the likelihood of a few good shots. And my gal Friday – and don’t you dare tell him I called him that – kept me collected.
At the reception, Anne’s car had battery problems which kept Hiram in the parking lot during most of the festivities. Anne’s toast to the bride, Rachel Ross, was warm, witty, and wise. I kept snapping pictures, but the lighting at the reception hall and my camera were not compatible. Would I have any decent pictures of the reception and the dance?
My question was answered yesterday. Among the thousand and more pictures that took all day to download, this one, with my daughter, radiant and beautiful as she danced, brought tears to my eyes. All my tension and worry were redeemed by the look on her face.
Why, I am wondering today, after all my fussing and fretting, all my my worry and snippiness, was I granted the honor of seeing my sweet daughter dance and of capturing her joy?
