It’s about that time, hive. Our planning is over. Our wedding has passed. Our recaps are finished.
“But what has become of them all?” asked the Mole.
“Who can tell?” said the Badger. “People come—they stay for a while, they flourish, they build—and they go. It is their way.”
-The Wind in the Willows
It’s time for me to go—for now, if not necessarily forever. I’m sure that I will pop back in every once in a while to update you on the major milestones in the Mole marriage. (Holy alliteration, Mole.) Before I say goodbye, I want to say two important things: good luck, and thank you.
Middle left photo by Cashman Photography / Remaining photos by Brian Saculles
Good luck to everyone who is currently waiting for an engagement, planning a wedding, or living together in a marriage. I suppose that luck isn’t quite the right word; relationships, like weddings, require will an effort. It’s no better simply to wish for a happy life than it is to wish for a completed seating chart. So what I will hope for you is empathy, balance, trust, support, and love.
Thank you to everyone who has shared this journey with me. You’ve seen me through the last three months of my engagement and the first four months of my marriage. I have been honored to share my story on the blog, and I have been even more honored that people have chosen to read, comment on, and respond to it. I appreciate that more than I can say. In addition, the hive has inspired, encouraged, and helped me in more ways than I can describe.
Photo by Gavin Gould
I am a little sad to say goodbye, but I am excited to move on and go forward. There is so much to anticipate: the trips Mr. Mole and I will take, the holidays we will celebrate, the children we someday will have—the life we will have together. If you ever want to catch up, I am going to be writing about that life at Make a Spectacle, my new blog.
Photo by Gavin Gould
I leave you with a song that we played at our reception. I love this song. In fact, once I got so excited to hear it in a Chicago supermarket that I accidentally punched Mr. Mole in the stomach. This is the closest we have to “our song” (even if Mr. Mole instinctively flinches whenever it comes on).