Recovering from too much thinking, not enough eating, and adrenaline surges aimed at various and sundry exigencies, the wedding itself, has occurred.

I am slowly awakening from the maze of happenings. The rehearsal dinner, the wedding, clothing and accessorizes that took on a life of their own. Weddings are indeed ‘a box of chocolates’. The joy of my son and daughter in law in love and publically pronouncing such; the processional walk, arm in arm, with my son as we meandered purposefully down the aisle, each of us turning our heads from side to side, smiling at the sea of faces surrounding us like a safety net; the background reminder of my failed marriage but the enormous counterweight of my four children and our relationships, the support of a new partnership, the passing of so much time.

It is mind numbing emotional fodder. The better to grow with, however. I realized a lot. I realized I fell into a well oiled groove (without feeling any gear shift). I allowed people who don’t matter to affect my evening, therefore not having as much room for those that do. It made me fantastically painstakingly aware not to give away my time, thoughts or power indiscriminately (almost unconsciously – like muscle memory). I am a smarter woman today.

The other side is I enjoyed the day tremendously. I danced with abandon, felt surrounded by those I love best in the world, and loved my dress (except that one of my son’s friends stepped on the bustle – which fell slightly longer in the back – before the wedding, and it needed to be sewed on by hand by a bridesmaid with very little thread). Best not to discuss it further. Suffice it to say, I kept people at bay (so as not to rip it more) but did not allow the ripped dress experience to unduly influence my evening.

I did not drink a lot. There was some drama. I was there as a major participant in the most important day of two people, to date. The honor and privilege was a universal reminder of what matters. The rest, my friends, is piffle.