Lots of lace, a few bats, mason jars, twinkle lights, lemon cake, lilac breezes, blue shoes, raspberry macaroons, wildflowers, tinkling glass, mom (the hardest working lady in show-biz. She can turn a barn into a fairy land, and a hula-hoop to a floral wreaths) in smoke colored silk-dancing with dad on the floor alone, a thunderstorm with a gray blue sky, frogs chirping in the creek at night, swinging on the porch swing in the sweet setting darkness, a consistently supportive boyfriend, lemonade, tiny purple violets in the grass, memories of loved ones here only in small ways now (like the sunshine on an outdoor ceremony, or a phrase on the lips of your aunt which sounds just like her) old friends and older trees, a few tears when dad and brother see her for the first time fully dressed, and a handsome groom who had tears in his eyes when she walked down the aisle. Incandescent, effervescent, stunning little sister.
Bride of my heart.
Happy always to you.
Go in love
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