Last weekend was my friend's wedding.
It was beautiful.
My cake was good.
The wedding took place two houses down from my grandparent's house. It was emotionally draining and strange.
I didn't think I would ever have a reason to see the place again. It's a town away from me, no place I have an interest in being.
When I read the address on the invitation my heart skipped beat.
I walked around the corner to take a look. Everything had been bulldozed. It was just a big, vast acre patch of yellow dirt, with a square indentation filled with gravel, where the house once stood. Off to the far west corner there is a huge new house, with big garage, half built, sub-flooring in, no siding yet.
The trees in the back, what we called "the timber" are still standing.
There is a code.
Something preventing them from cutting such old trees down.
The sequoia is also standing.
They may not realize it was only planted in the 60's.
It's not really old by tree standards.
Only a pup, my grandfather might say.
I started to walk back to the wedding with dust on my sandals.
A man in a fancy car stopped in front of where the hedgerow used to be and asked if I needed a ride.
I told him, no, I didn't have far to go.
I had to walk in the street, there are no sidewalks there.
When I returned the ceremony was about to start.
I sat with a fellow that was also alone. He said he was born in North Dakota.
I said, that sounded like a fine place to be from. Far from.
He said "you are funny".
I dropped my dinner roll on the ground, picked it up and pretended like nothing had happened. It had a bit of dried grass stuck to the buttered side, but was otherwise fine.
There was an excellent band playing, people were dancing.
I am not much of a dancer. I am more of a swayer.
My friend and her new husband said beautiful and lovely things to each other.
About each other.
They made vows and declarations of love, promises of social responsibility that I believed.
I was moved.
It was real.
The fellow from North Dakota and I talked about the nature of romantic love, about Cuba Libra cocktails and how weird it is to parent a teenager, when you still feel young, but aren't young.
We are actually quite old.
I served my cake. I got a lot of frosting on my hands. The bathroom of the house was dirty, which made me nervous, I wiped the frosting on a paper napkin. None of the guests minded, because they were not the type to be bothered by such things.