I am writing from the Ramada Inn in Laramie, Wyoming. I can’t get over the skies here- they expand forever and ever. I haven’t had much of a chance to see Wyoming as weddings involve a lot of errands; we’ve driven around Laramie but not outside of it. Still, the city ends and the plains start, and I can just feel how open it is. I find it the opposite of suffocating, but almost equally frightening. I’m used to green canopies and sight lines that end before the earth curves. I can understand why Jessi felt so smothered in Pennsylvania. The trees are a blanket I curl into, and I feel exposed here.
I’m not sure where I fit anymore. This is too open, but the city life of Seattle sometimes wears on me. There has to be a place that will feel like home, but I’m not sure I’ll find it soon. I am okay with waiting.
Jessi gets married in a matter of hours at this point. I don’t know what I expected, but for some reason it didn’t occur to me how amazing this whole trip would be. I was excited to see my friend, to meet her family, but the wedding part didn’t really sink in. Then I was walking on a grooms man’s arm towards the covering where her fiancé stood, and turning to watch Jessi come in a practice tulle vale, laughing. She has found her home and he was standing, waiting for her. She hasn’t stopped glowing since I’ve been here, she is beautiful and I can’t help but want to burst with everything wonderful for her.
I am so lucky to be here and part of this. We spent last night talking and drinking wine out of paper hotel cups after the rehearsal dinner, and both woke early, before the alarms. I’m excited, but I know I can’t get anywhere near the electricty that must be filling every cell of her body.
Someday, perhaps, for me. Right now I’m happy to be with one of the most amazing girls I’ve ever met, watching her sparkle and begin.