In the fall.
A Forsyth Park wedding happens in the early fall, when the leaves resolutely hold on to their green and the Spanish moss restlessly sways to in the changing breeze. The seasons are shifting and the cicadas are returning to where they came from, underground or overhead, exhausted from their summer symphonies and timeless rituals. The rush of tourists is beginning again, however delicate tulle marks off the space around the fountain, white against the red brick pavement. The breeze lifts droplets of water from the fountain and scatters them through the air, aimlessly returning to the earth to touch the wedding guests as they patiently await the ceremony.
…
She slips a note from a clutch pocket, heavy with humidity and anticipation. On it reads a note, a sonnet, a piece of her heart. It is bound for only one. It speaks of hopes and dreams:
We were young and in love. We found each other and fell together, sticking to each other like glue. How did we get here so quickly? A child, so sweet and innocent; our new life began before we could ask “Is this for real?”
It is very real. The realest of beautiful moments. Life is complicated sometimes, but together it makes sense. With you, I walk resolutely, knowing that we are cared for. Your daughter and I hold your hand as you hold our hearts.
…
Is this for real?
The couple look back at the guests and laugh. Here is family and friends, those that love them. The sun casts an orange glow on everyone as it sinks further into the oak trees. They try to remember all of their names, but all they can see is the memories they’ve made together. Some of it must be true, but they can’t be sure. A photograph is made, freezing them in that fraction of time, creating a memory that is handed to their daughter.
…
This is Breana and Kory 5 years ago. This is their real wedding story, however beautifully remembered.
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