my first wedding of the summer

Chapel at Powell Gardens
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.


Chapel at Powell Gardens at Sunset
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.


The Happy Bride on the Trolley
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.


Husband and Wife
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.


Five Primedia Chicks
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.


It's a Small World
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

The assistant editor at my magazine got married over the weekend. Somehow my graceful, kind nature allowed me to forgive and forget that it was she who ruined the ending of Harry Potter for me. So I was able to attend her wedding with a happy heart.

Her wedding was beautiful. I’d never been out to Powell Gardens in Kingstown, Mo. During the longish drive out there I began to panic that I’d taken a wrong turn on the highway. Was I supposed to continue of 50 when it veered off to the right like that? Where was Lone Jack? Had I missed it. Where am I? Crap, where’s my cell phone? Did I forget it at home?

Luckily, my cell phone had simply slid under the passenger’s seat, I was supposed to stay on 20 when it veered to the right, and I made it to the wedding early.

Powell Gardens is beautiful. The chapel sits by a lake and the view is quite lovely at sunset. The chapel is mostly windows that make use of the amazing view. Quite a nice spot for a wedding.

It was a beautiful wedding. My co-worker had put in so much work to make this wedding happen, and her efforts showed.

I’m not a big marriage girl. Yeah, I’d like to find someone to share my life with and all that, but I’m not big on the institution of marriage. I get all annoyed with laws and rules and society saying this is who this person is to you and how your relationship must be. Anyway, that said, I felt that pang in my chest and my eyes teared up a bit as I watched my co-worker walk down the aisle. She was beautiful, shaking a bit on her father’s arm, overcome with emotion, and very happy. I want that—whatever that is.

While the vocalist was doing her thing, I was looking at the bridesmaids and groomsmen. I thought about how many bridesmaids I’d want to have. There are all these social rules. Which of my friends would I include? What if my husband-to-be had six sisters? So on to the boys. The third guy in the line caught my eye for a moment. I continued down the row, then back to that third guy. That curly hair looked familiar. Oh my, it was Johnny, my European backpacking buddy’s little brother.

I had the urge to call her and tell her that I somehow ended up at a wedding where I expected to know no one and saw her brother — in a suit no less. But, sigh, I couldn’t. She was at a family reunion in Virginia or some such eastern state.

At the reception, Johnny came and sat down at my table to talk with me. I was good to see him again. It’d been awhile. He’s since graduated from college and gotten a job doing something brilliant involving computers, of course. He was always a computer genius.

And it was nice to have a familiar face there, especially after all my co-workers called it a night just after the dancing got started.

I had a really good time. I tried to call the G-man to tell him all about it, but he was busy having a so-so time at American Bandstand and couldn’t hear me on his cell phone anymore than I could hear him.

Then 1 a.m. came and so did the last song and the time for the drive home. I wasn’t very worried about finding my way back through the highway maze until I came to the exit for 435 and it was blocked by all of those annoying orange-and-white-striped barrels. Grr. I followed two detour signs and then was left to my own devices. I found myself driving down a windy road darkened by the dense trees on either side of me.

I could call my roommate, but she doesn’t know this part of the city any better than I do. And we don’t have Internet access. I could call my dad, but I’d hate to wake him. Screw it. I’ve been lost before. It can be an adventure, even if it is 1 in the morning.

I figured that I’d probably hit a highway eventually. The road, I later noticed, was Bannister Road, which registered to me as a main road that should lead somewhere, though I couldn’t place it in the map in my head. So I kept going. Bannister Road crossed Blue Ridge Boulevard. And, though I recognized the name as another main road, it meant little to me. As I sat at the light, I realized that the intersection looked vaguely familiar to me. If I was correct, Waldo was just to my right and Johnson County, Kan., was just ahead. My thanks go out to my maternal grandmother who avoids highways at all costs. We’d driven down this road to go to Concordia, Mo., earlier this year.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Then Bannister turned into 95th Street, and I felt a bit silly. I should have known that. I should have known where I was. Oh, well. Now I know. Sill it was fun being lost.