Mr. and Mrs.

This past Saturday in the coastal village of Rockland, Maine, I was married to my sweetheart. Naturally, it rained. We packed all forty odd guests into the creaky (yet lovely) bed and breakfast where we were staying and held the ceremony on the stairs coming down into the entryway. Aya was breathtaking. The vision of her walking towards me makes my heart skip a beat. There was dancing, fine local microbrews, cake, toasts and the sort of joyful intelligent conversation that is the root of all that is great and wonderful.

I am not a superstitious man, but I enjoy the random confluence of happenstance and clever planning that gives the miraculous appearance of good omens. September 23rd was a very special day.

• Rain, you see, is almost always good luck. Why, I do not know, but I’m very willing to take my aunt’s word on the matter.
• The day also happened to be the autumn equinox. We had small ritual-sized pumpkins, but I’m not sure anyone got around to performing any proper pagan harvest rites. Note to self: Next time invite more witches.
• Both my mother and my amazing bride share a birthday, September 23rd to be exact. Yes, I am quite absentminded and yes, the women in my life are kind beyond all reasonable expectations.
• My mother turned 60. This is the 5th cycle of the Chinese calendar and represents a time of rebirth. She found this to be the best news she had heard in a quite a few birthdays. “No, today you are younger, not older.”

Another connection occurred on that rainy day in Maine. Aya’s parents and good friend Michiko traveled all the way from the distant isle of Honshu to be at the ceremony. A marriage is as much about the joining of two families as it is about finally kicking the bride and groom out of their parent’s house. We were honored to have both sides of our family together in one place.
Two vignettes stand out:

• At the rehearsal dinner, Aya’s father gave me a bullet shaped USB drive from Akihabara. It was the modern version of a shotgun wedding in this age of birth control and blushing thirty-year-old brides. I smiled and laughed…and took his message very, very seriously.
• The first night Michiko arrived, we stopped by the nearby greasy spoon to eat a bit of lobster. The weathered waitress couldn’t quite believe Aya and Michiko’s request for soy sauce and lemon instead of melted butter. Delicious. I suspect a local Maine legend was born that night.

After the wedding, the days flew by. There were few thoughts of work, games or honestly much of anything. For our mini-honeymoon we drank mead, moseyed through nearby museums, and supped at fine restaurants. I’m still in mild shock.

My god, she is a beautiful woman. How could I be so lucky?

Many thanks to everyone who helped make our wedding so marvelous.
Danc.