One Wedding

This past weekend I went to the wedding of my friend Cathy. We have been friends with each other for over 15 years. When we met the topic of conversation was "when to have sex with a boy" rather than when to marry one.

Yes, we are of the generation when the notion of matrimony was on a horizon far separate (and potentially distant) from the one of intercourse. At that time I don't think either of us was confident that marriage was going to be a part of the future at all. At 19, the institution of marriage; the idea of being married; the implications of matrimony all seemed like a iffy endeavour indeed. The binding construct of forever was practically unfathomable in those days of the now.

The years rolled by. I watched Cathy live through relationships and jobs, houses andd travels. She had her hands on all the LEGOS of life but nothing ever clicked into an aisle to walk down.

And then she met Gordon.

I think, if memory serves, that Gordon declared he was going to marry Cathy within the first three months they were dating. When I was home for Christmas last December it was the engagement that was the topic of much discussion. A wedding was on. The future was now. Forever had a start date. Click. Click. Click.

Then there they were. On a September autumn afternoon. The weather gods had kindly halted their spitball competition to allow for the ceremony to be held outdoors. The traditional silhouette of a man in black and a woman in white imprinted itself on a deck overlooking one of the Kawartha region's lakes. Pine needles whispered against painted leaves and silver water lapped against mottled stone. And Cathy, my dear friend, joined herself to the man she loves.


There are lots (too many?) romantic tales about finding "the one". But when you see a friend discover the truth of it you cannot deny the impact. Infinte congratulations to the newlywed couple.