We planned our wedding in four phone calls in 2000.  

We didn’t plan to elope.  At the beginning I was kind of in to the whole marital industrial complex thing.  My dreams and ideals were tied up in the symbolism of everything that mattered to Bob and me.  I wanted a simple (ha.) wedding outdoors on the farm….with a giant white tent and good chairs and tables.  And the tent would be decorated with greenery.  I wanted to be married at dusk with an altar made of candles that would be lit for me by friends, family and community.  I wanted live music, great local food.  My mother-in-law to-be went with me to a boutique bridal shop where we selected a diaphanous white gown that made me look like a Greek Goddess.  Mom was quietly freaking out about the cost. Everything we considered was in units of $1000.   I had never written a check with that many digits.  Dad urged Mom to give me time, reminding her that I seemed to have a good head for money.

The wedding was scheduled for July 26, 2001.  Deposits for the gown and tent were due on January 15.  

Bob and I eloped on New Year’s Eve. 

Dad was definitely right about me and money.

But there was more to it.  In my efforts to create a vision of all that I thought we should be, I felt I was losing touch with what I most wanted: a marriage to a man whom I loved with all my heart.

So we tied a note to the dog letting my folks know we’d eloped, dropped him off at the farm, and took off to an undisclosed location so that no one could try and stop us.  We left a copy of our vows and a bottle of champagne in Mom and Dad’s fridge.  We promised we would call as soon as we were through.

Mom was crying when we called.  I know she was happy.  She was relieved she and Dad didn’t have to fuss over gowns and suits.  She was thrilled we didn’t have to come up with a  pasture plan to make sure there wouldn’t be chicken shit on the front field at the time of the wedding.  She was also sad.  I couldn’t really understand why.

I never regretted our wedding.  …Or the lack of one.  Soon, I adopted a general rule of avoiding them.  “I didn’t go to my own wedding, I’m not going to anyone else’s,” I proclaimed whenever we learned of impending nuptials.  Bob and I loved having the excuse of the farm, the farmers market, and then the cafe to avoid such events.  

And then, over Christmas this year, Will and Tess got engaged.

Will’s regular seat at the cafe is at the espresso bar next to where Tom Edmunds used to sit.   When he started coming in, he was driving a tow truck for an East coast-based tire franchise.  When things were slow, I’d sit with him at the espresso bar, and he’d tell me about his dreams of working for himself.  He wanted to start a garage and property maintenance business.  Sap Bush Hollow became one of his first clients.  

Over the years, he would bring different women in on cafe dates.  We never said anything, but we evaluated.  Was this one going to appreciate him?  Could they be happy together?  

 “Why doesn’t he go out with Tess?” Saoirse and Ula would often ask.  Tess lived in the apartment in back with her mom, Eileen.  A homeschooled kid who went to college here in town, she had her own unique interests that seemed distinctly compatible with Will’s.  Tess loved to take apart her car in our parking lot.   She would build things out on the back deck while we worked in the kitchen, punctuating the sounds of the kitchen bell with the rhythm of a power drill.  She would show up at the farm and experiment with planting different fruit trees and berry bushes.  

It was like she and Will were two pieces of a puzzle lost under a corner of carpet.  Something about the cafe picture would be incomplete until they found each other. 

And eventually they did.  

And they planned a wedding for this summer.

….In a field across the creek from the cafe, with a tent.  They asked me if we could cater.  I know I don’t do weddings, but since it was Tess and Will, I agreed. 

But sitting at the espresso bar one day a few weeks ago, they announced that, in light of the field’s proximity to the shooter’s house, they had abandoned the notion.  They were looking for someone who could perform a private ceremony up by Looking Glass Pond.  They weren’t sure what to do in the event of bad weather.

“Get married here if you want,” I half-joked.  I jerked my thumb at Corbie, sitting at the bar beside me.  “She’s licensed to marry people.”

“We could do that?” Will’s face lit up.  Corbie nodded.

“How many people would it be?” I asked.

“Just our parents and us.”

I shrugged.  “Sure.  I’ll cook breakfast.”

And that was the extent of the wedding planning.

I know they said they didn’t want any special arrangements made, but I felt like there should be something.  I emailed Pat, an avid gardener who sits at table four, wondering if she had anything that might be blooming.  She dug up some ferns that needed to be transplanted, wrapped them in burlap and brought them in.  Bob and Mom gathered lilacs and apple blossoms and put them in Mason jars.  They arranged them around the fireplace in the corner of the cafe, then Saoirse festooned the area with lights.  I made a little cake, Eileen brought in some fresh fruit to decorate it, and we grabbed two pieces from Mom’s American Gothic-themed chess set to use as cake toppers.  

Last Saturday, around 11:30 in the morning, Will and Tess came in.  He wore a vest, she wore a new dress and carried a bouquet of roses.  She left them on the table and went around back to knock on Eileen’s door to let her know they were ready to get married.  Corbie polished off the last of her coffee and went to get dressed.

And then some of their friends came.

And then some other family members came. 

And then come customers came.

Whether Will and Tess intended or not, there was suddenly a crowd for a small, but very real, wedding.  We had to make one on the spot.  I hung a sign on the door:  CLOSED EARLY FOR A WEDDING.  We found an extra tent and tables to spread people out across the patio.  Inside, Bob, Jenn and Nate and the girls pushed all the tables to one side.  The set up some chairs for folks who needed to sit.  

Everyone had lunch on the patio, then filed in.  Tess and Will stood before our makeshift altar, and Corble performed a six minute ceremony.  

And darned if I didn’t cry.  I listened to Corbie’s words about the transformation we go through, moving from lovers to spouses.  And I thought about what a glorious journey it has been with my own partner.

More than that, I thought how, in the face of so many struggles that are happening in our little town, in our country, in our world…this was an amazing gift:  these two young people, pledging their lives to each other here with their neighbors and family.  

And as much as I was happy to run away and elope, it was the first time I wrapped my head around why my mom cried.  The union of two people can be such a gift to those of us who love them.  And it wasn’t the grandiose scenery or the extravagant dresses or food that made it special.  It was the love of two people, surrounded by the people who love them.

We are all so very lucky to have Will and Tess in our lives.  And I am so honored that they let us play a part in their ceremony.  Congratulations, Tess and Will.