When Frank and I wake up on February 13, 2010, neither one of us has a clue that it is our wedding day. It is, in fact, my niece Erica and her fiancée Steve’s wedding day-a supposedly perfunctory legal affair preceding her more elaborate destination wedding in Todos Santos Mexico the following month. Despite Erica’s insistence that the fuss over her civil ceremony in Colorado be kept to a minimum, nothing in my family has ever been done on a small scale. Family members and friends who can’t attend the wedding in Mexico have assembled from all parts assuring the usual raucous and chaotic Varela family goat rope. As I stand in front of my closet, contemplating the day's attire, I must know on some unconscious level that something is in the air because I am as nervous as a bride-to-be. After frantically searching for a lost earring, I have a complete emotional melt down. "What is my problem?" I sob to Frank's bemusement as he spies the earring on the floor and calmly hands it to me, "It's not like I'm getting married or anything."
On the way to Colorado Springs, where the ceremony is to take place, Frank and I discuss our own fuzzy wedding plans, which have stubbornly refused to take shape, no matter how many times we visit the issue. After two happy years together, we are ready to take the next important step in our relationship, but when it comes to wedding logistics, we are completely stymied. We don't like the idea of the three ring circus that will inevitably ensue if we involve my family so we're leaning more towards a private and intimate ceremony, but somehow that doesn't seem right either.
When we arrive at the elegant Southwest Studies building on the Colorado College campus (Erica’s Alma mater and also where Erica’s aunt, my oldest sister Maria, is an adjunct professor) we find one of the meeting rooms transformed into a warm intimate space, complete with candles, fresh flowers and yards of turquoise tulle framing a graceful fireplace. I grin at the family interpretation of ‘perfunctory’ because it is clear that Maria and her daughter Sabina have spent hours working to make this occasion anything but. There are bottles of champagne, fresh strawberries, a platter of wedding cookies and chocolate truffles. Three out of a possible four sisters and their husbands, Erica’s Dad, her step-mother, brother Gabe, his wife and two little ones are all present and accounted for. The groom’s parents, grandmother, aunt and a group of friends and co-workers have also assembled. Introductions are made, pleasantries exchanged and last minute preparations are completed. Frank has gotten hold of my great niece, baby Zae and is walking around gently cuddling and soothing her. The sight of Zae trustingly gazing into Frank’s eyes melts my heart. How many times can you fall in love with a big, goofy guy with a giant heart?
None of the chaos I have anticipated is forthcoming. As Ginger, the officiating chaplain guides the young couple through the ceremony which will legally bind them together as man and wife, a sense of the sacred quietly begins to enter the room. The bride and groom appear to be surprised by the profound emotion that the simple yet timeless ritual is eliciting. There is not a dry eye in the room as snivels punctuate the promises that Erica and Steve are making to each other. Frank and I hold hands, totally resonating with the words that are being spoken-silently making our own promises to each other. When Ginger asks our small group to indicate willingness to support the couple in their marriage, a resounding “WE WILL!” led by my three year old great nephew Kai fills the room. I feel a pang as I realize that Frank and I will not have any family to witness the private ceremony that we are contemplating.
But, as so often happens, the Universe has a much better plan for us. From the beginning there are clues, like bread crumbs leading to a hidden prize. Before the ceremony, my brother-in-law Clyde winks at us slyly suggesting that Frank and I ‘make it a double’. My sister Frances (Erica’s mom) pays me kind of a weird complement when she tells me I look good enough to be a bride. We find out later that Maria dreamt of a double wedding months before. Her husband Zuni will also claim that he has known all along what is about to happen.
It’s as if there are individual notes floating silently in the air, but no one can hear the music until the very last minute. At some point after the ceremony, amidst the frenzy of congratulatory hugs and smooches that are being lavished on the newlyweds, a surprising chain of events begins to unfold.
Like metal filings drawn to a magnet, Frank and I inexplicably find ourselves sidling over to Ginger the chaplain, jokingly asking her, “Don’t suppose you would be willing to conduct two ceremonies for the price of one, would you?"
And she, being totally attuned to the silent music, takes us totally seriously and replies, "Of course, I would be delighted to perform another ceremony."
"But what about the license," I stammer, "wouldn’t we need a marriage license?" Ginger assures us that this is a minor detail which can easily be taken care of after the fact. My sister Dolores, who has been eavesdropping, begins to screech. Still not able to fully grasp the unexpected turn that our conversation with Ginger has taken, I shush my excited sibling, worried that we would be stealing Erica and Steve's thunder should we carry out this impulsive course of action that has suddenly become available. A quick pow-wow with them promptly disposes of that concern and we get an enthusiastic thumbs up.
“Do it!” Erica happily urges us with Steve nodding in vigorous agreement. My niece and I have always been close and she is obviously more than willing to generously share her special day with us.
My partner and I look into each other's eyes and silently ask, “Should we?”
As has been the case ever since Frank answered my ad for a hiking buddy on Craig’s list, the stars align into a single perfect moment and we absolutely know that we should. Suddenly, the din in the room ceases. It seems that everyone is hearing the symphony that has begun to play ever so sweetly. A quick thinking Sabina snatches a bouquet of flowers out of a vase and places them, dripping, into my shaking hands. Ginger calls everyone to attention and with a wide smile, undertakes the second wedding ceremony of the day.
Luckily there is still plenty of Kleenex left over from the first wedding and more tears are shed as Frank and I take our own leap of faith uplifted by the love and support of the people in that room, some of whom we have only known for a short while. Months of planning could not have yielded a more blessed occasion than the one which is taking place on this particular winter afternoon, the day before all lovers are celebrated everywhere. Call it Divine Intervention, call it co-incidence or even sheer dumb luck. No matter what you call it, I suspect that anyone present at this momentous event felt the invisible Something that gave Frank and I an exquisitely timed nudge into a wedding more perfect than anything we could ever have conjured up in our wildest imagination.
