Saturday, September 24, 2005
The Wedding Banquet
At some point during the evening, conversation turned to settings for wedding reception dinners.
It seemed unanimous that the way forwards was a lawn party, very genteel, very civilised.
And then as the words left her mouth, memories came crashing back.
I've written about this somewhere before... but I've written so much junk now I can't find the entry anymore. Or perhaps it's not even here on my blog... but on one of the older pages that predate blogger... or perhaps even in an email somewhere.
But as I heard her say the word "beach" I remembered - as if yesterday the thoughts arriving in my mind - as if today.
I think I even wrote then that I must be a little crazy for writing about a wedding dinner at that age... when it felt so far away as to be unimaginable, this lifetime.
*****
Sundown.
The rhythmic sound of the sea, breaking and ebbing. No music.
Muted voices murmuring to each other, shadows in the dark. No yaaam seeng. No tea ceremony.
Tables, anchored in the sand. Shoes filling slowly with sand. Maybe five, maybe ten tables. A small affair - intimates only.
Dim candlelight, flickering warmly off familiar faces.
Waitors bearing courses treading through draped tables.
She, looking resplendant in her gown, to the backdrop of the dying sun, transforming gradually into a black sillhouette cast against the sky, her eyes catching the candle-light, bright against the darkening sky.
A speech, a call for a toast. Someone quietly taps a spoon against a glass; words begin.
Hers, then his. Two speeches. Quietly, and immaculately delivered.
No photographs, no vid-cam enshrined memories. Memories embodied in words, thought and deed. Memories crafted with love, of love.
No uproarious cackling carrying overtones of derision - just cosy laughter. amongst friends and family.
And perhaps after, dancing by the sea.
It seemed unanimous that the way forwards was a lawn party, very genteel, very civilised.
And then as the words left her mouth, memories came crashing back.
I've written about this somewhere before... but I've written so much junk now I can't find the entry anymore. Or perhaps it's not even here on my blog... but on one of the older pages that predate blogger... or perhaps even in an email somewhere.
But as I heard her say the word "beach" I remembered - as if yesterday the thoughts arriving in my mind - as if today.
I think I even wrote then that I must be a little crazy for writing about a wedding dinner at that age... when it felt so far away as to be unimaginable, this lifetime.
*****
Sundown.
The rhythmic sound of the sea, breaking and ebbing. No music.
Muted voices murmuring to each other, shadows in the dark. No yaaam seeng. No tea ceremony.
Tables, anchored in the sand. Shoes filling slowly with sand. Maybe five, maybe ten tables. A small affair - intimates only.
Dim candlelight, flickering warmly off familiar faces.
Waitors bearing courses treading through draped tables.
She, looking resplendant in her gown, to the backdrop of the dying sun, transforming gradually into a black sillhouette cast against the sky, her eyes catching the candle-light, bright against the darkening sky.
A speech, a call for a toast. Someone quietly taps a spoon against a glass; words begin.
Hers, then his. Two speeches. Quietly, and immaculately delivered.
No photographs, no vid-cam enshrined memories. Memories embodied in words, thought and deed. Memories crafted with love, of love.
No uproarious cackling carrying overtones of derision - just cosy laughter. amongst friends and family.
And perhaps after, dancing by the sea.
