Last weekend, on a quintessential fall day in the Windy City, two of my favorite people in the world got married.
Moody, gray clouds surfing the blustery skies and rolling seas crashing into the rocks that line Lake Michigan’s craggy shores, punctuated the weekend, setting the scene with a sense of drama. And as the doors of Rockefeller Chapel burst open in a joyful introduction of the newlyweds, The Sun peeked through the clouds offering up her blessing, not to mention her approval, of the happy couple’s union.
That was the theme of the weekend.
Love radiated from table to table, spun around the dance floor and vibrated off of the soaring walls of the chapel. Well-wishes, kissed cheeks and bear hugs were shared among friends, new and old, and squeals of glee vibrated through the weekend from old college roommates and high school friends that were catching up for the first time in years.
And every once in a while, when you glanced at Holly and Tim, you felt as though you were catching a glimpse into a moment in which two people, two of the best people to grace this Earth, two people who love so wholly and live so fully, were coming finally coming together and gracing the rest of the population with a love and a craving for the adventures to come.
Congratulations you guys. It was an honor to share in your special day. All my love, to the moon and back.