A Special Day in June

Three more days until my wedding date, until my forever. How have nine months passed us by in the blink of an eye? It was the midst of September, but felt like it was only yesterday when John knelt down on one knee in front of the old barn telling me he wanted us to spend the rest of our lives together. What a blissful day. The sun danced throughout the grove, grazing the golden and burgundy leaves of the aspen trees as autumn was in full bloom. A second close favorite season of mine, right behind summer. I have always dreamed of a June wedding.

There was so much to do and only a few days left before our “I do”. I pulled a journal out of my bag to analyze the checklist for today: indoor wedding décor and flowers. I take a long inhale, letting the air expand my lungs, and sigh out the stress weighing on my shoulders as the date approaches. Although I absolutely insisted on planning our wedding myself in order for our special day to be exactly how I envisioned it, a wedding planner doesn’t sound like a bad idea right about now.

I close the journal and walk into the old barn. It is just how I remember it from the day John proposed. The cedar wood is an elegantly aged grey, from the prolonging years it has withstood the radiating sun. Inside, a white sheer drapery swings delicately across the ceiling, shimmering in transparency in the glow of the sunlight. Hand-in-hand they cross one another until they lead to the end of the isle and reach forefront of the arch. I smile as I close my eyes and picture John waiting for me underneath archway, as our family and friends will be gathered before us to watch us exchange our vows.

I turn towards the venue chairs for our guests. They are a natural ivory wood build, with a delicate white chiffon loosely woven down the back. In the center of the chairs, a miniature light pink bouquet accents the chiffon. The small selection resembles more that of a corsage, but consisted of the same exquisite arrangement of flowers, in my opinion, that are sprinkled throughout my own bouquet. Large lilies stained with an orange pigmented pollen are the focal point of my floral cluster, with yellow hellebores and pastel pink peonies mixed amongst them. Lastly, small speckled bundles of baby’s breath accent this work of art, my own Monet I’ll be grasping and preparing to propel backwards for my bridesmaids to catch for the fortune of future marriage. I am already feeling resistance to parting ways with this true work of art that is my wedding bouquet.

Two more days. I once again reference the itemized itinerary of a to-do list in my journal. I satisfyingly strike my pen through yesterday’s tasks. Now on to today’s: outdoor décor.

Symmetrically dispersed throughout the pasture that remains within the picketed fence of the barn sits the dining portion of the venue. Grey, long wood tables match the stain and curvature of the groves detailing the cedar of the old barn. Though, nothing could truly capture the absolute integrity and overall grandeur of the aged structure. Atop, narrow cream satin runners hug the lengths of the tables. Distressed gold-metal candlestick centerpieces decorate their surfaces, with plating and cutlery to match. The little lit wicks look like summer fireflies, illuminating the outdoor venue with brightness and warmth.

I gently seat myself in one of the dining seats, careful to not move any items out of place. I look across the tables at eye level to gain a new perspective and to ensure no details were missed. Gazing above, simple yet elegant lightbulbs string overhead, wreathed with one another like ornaments in the summer sky. I center my attention back to the table, and fondle with the thin beige burlap that encases the glass mason jars placed on the table. I trace my finger along the loops of one of their bows. Beautiful. I close my journal.

One more day until our special ceremony. Just the final details to ensure everything is in order for tomorrow. I had been filled with butterflies of excitement this past night. Unable to ease my eagerness, I awoke early this morning and arose with the sun. I took a sip of warm coffee, the caffeine filling my veins with energy and the cool froth of heavy creamer soothing my tongue. I had just finished writing my vows to my beloved fiancé, or soon to be husband. I smile at the card stock, holding my written love for John between my two hands. The final item on my checklist has been crossed off. My soul feels warm and giddy. It is wild to fathom how such a sophisticated love in every aspect can make you still feel youthful and childlike at heart.

My wedding dress hangs on the outer door of the chestnut-stained dresser. I walk over and admire the dress in awe. The wedding dress of my dreams. It is sewn in the most dazzling and piercing white color you have ever seen. It is a very light, sheer, A-line dress with a simple plunging neckline. It resembles similarly to that of the translucent drapery of which swing across the ceilings of the barn. The gentleness of the gown flows gracefully with the prairie winds. I envision the small train of the dress grazing atop the flower petals laid beneath it among the silk isle. The petals then slowly collecting and intertwining with one another in the dress fabric.

Today is finally the day. No more waiting. No more checklists. Today I get to marry the love of my life.