My little sister Devan got married this past weekend. She wore my mom’s wedding dress and flowers in her hair.
I didn’t snap a single picture at the wedding itself, just these few shots of the preparations. A wedding is a celebration of love for sure, but it’s an act of love, too. More precisely, it’s a compilation of many acts of love. It’s helping hands and quiet words and playing fetch with a dog who never, ever tires of chasing a ball. It’s flowers planted in gardens. It’s ironed linen for eager flower kids to wear as they bunch-ball around the bride. It’s glasses of wine spritzers and spritzes of rosewater. It’s kitchen table manicures. It’s singing in the attic and singing around a campfire. It’s a freshly painted porch floor. It’s the sofreh aghd—all sugar and spices and nuts and fruit. It’s a playlist and a set list and a last-minute A/V rescue.
It’s tears and it’s laughter. It’s a knot in your stomach and a catch in your throat.
It’s reading these words, from the Persian poet, Hafiz:
So that your own heart
So God will think,
I got kin in that body!
I should start inviting that soul over
For coffee and
Because this is a food
Our starving world
Because that is the purest