Finding Joy in 2020 However We Can

We met at a climbing gym in Rhode Island. Emile was a climbing instructor and happened to be at the gym early with nothing to do while my friend and I needed a belay test. No one else was available to test us so he stepped up- we passed and went on with our climbing day. Later, after he casually came over when his shift was done, we exchanged numbers in hopes of going climbing together outside. He mentioned he’d be back in 2 months from Arkansas, to which my thought was, “never going to see you again”. At the end of the summer I received a surprising text from that-guy-from-the-climbing-gym. We made a plan to climb at Crow Hill, had a blast, and we chatted the whole way back. The next few weeks we spent almost every day together, finally finding someone else who wanted to adventure and dance as much as the other. We excitedly planned a weekend long adventure to Maine, just three weeks into hanging out, and then I remembered that my annual family reunion was the same weekend. Emile, bravely, declared that he would come with me. We went to the reunion, largely composed of my wonderfully loud and boisterous NY Italian family, where he fared quite well and I referred to him as "my climbing friend". The following weekend we took off on our adventure to Maine. We drove the long way, meandering through the port towns of New England, enjoying the show that is Fall on the east coast. The first night in Bar Harbor we walked into town and happened upon a contra dance. We unexpectedly danced all night in a gorgeous historical library, surrounded by wonderful dancers in hiking boots, live music, and that small town feel. The rest of the weekend was just as magical as the first day, filled with seashore adventures, clouds and no views, slippery rocks, a lot of seagulls, and clam chowder for every meal. Yes. Every meal. Our Maine weekend started on Friday September 25th, the same day we married five years later.

“What if we got married on our five year anniversary?” That’s the question that was posed on September 9th, the one that launched us into a completely hectic two weeks. What if we just did it? COVID isn’t going to end anytime soon, the world is on fire, the news is depressing, our democracy is holding on by a thread, there are protests fighting for basic equality in 2020 like it’s the 60s- I mean, hell, why not?! So we decided to elope- truly elope- making it a surprise for everyone, even our officiant who found out only a few days before that he was going to officiate! Instantly, a million things at once began to happen, but in true Kelly and Emile fashion, that was to be expected. Kelly got a new job that weekend and presented at a conference the following weekend while the wedding to-do list came into sharp focus. On a tight budget: A wedding and maid-of-honor dress had to be found, matching suits had to be fitted, decorations and flowers from the farmers market needed purchasing, a blanket for the ceremony had to be located, photographers had to be confirmed, a location needed picking- all as the sky filled with smoke because our beautiful corner of the world was ON FIRE. Up until the week of we weren’t even sure if we would be able to pull it off. With the smoke not clearing, traveling logistics impossible to manage, and the weather meant to clear the fires (sweet relief) being a massive storm front (shit)- none of it seemed to want to come together. We decided to take a plunge, just like when we met, and go for this wild idea and hope we could weather the storm together. Well, we did, weather a storm that is. The smoke finally cleared and that storm front came barreling in. Sheets of rain plummeted western Washington like we had never seen before. The streets were flooding, the temperature wouldn’t climb above 50 degrees, and the wind was whipping around with unbearable strength. Perfect.

The day started just like any COVID wedding should. Sipping from a bottle of champagne- I mean having mimosas- and beginning the chiseling, sculpting, and general carpentry that is wedding makeup and hair. It was pouring rain outside but me, Julia, and Shelby were happily busting a move to early 2000s songs. Emile, Patrick, and Chuck took showers and were ready. We all set out for the forest, the gents getting there first to scope out a good spot for the ceremony along the shore of Cooper Lake- a location chosen approximately two days beforehand. The ladies picked up the post-adventure food, and some last minute pumpkins for decoration, and headed out as well. The highway was treacherous,the rain was sheeting down the windshield, and a Walmart truck had it out for us. Naturally, the bridal car made an emergency pitstop down a dirt road, one I was convinced no one ever went down. All three of us peed, desperately, in a grassy ditch in the rain while multiple trucks rounded the corner to prove me wrong. The bridal car arrived and brought a new wave of rain with us. Emile and Patrick set out in the monsoon to set up elaborate rain tarps, returning to retrieve the bridal party- all of whom were doubtfully peering out of the car windows creating incoherent backup plans. We finally stepped out and the sun, as if playing a terrible joke on all of us, broke through the clouds and shone down on the lake. It didn’t last long, but that was the last of the heavy rain.

We put our backpacks on, hiked out to the clearing on the shore, and began changing. Almost instantly, Julia and I had to go back to the car (because I forgot my vows) and got lost on the way back *shrug*. We all finally got dressed, the shivering began, the umbrellas went up, bones were found(??) and the first look was had. Well, the first-first look. Patrick graced Emile with his best impression of Kelly in a wedding dress. 5 stars, would do again. Then the real first look, cute and awkward, “oh hey, look at you in a dress, and you, in a suit!”. 2 stars, would not recommend. Then the big moment. The first waltz we danced to together began playing, Julia walked the bride down the trail, Emile shed his first but not last tear of the evening, Emile's Dad read his poem, and we exchanged our vows. A comical blanket ceremony was attempted, a pronunciation of marriage was announced, the kiss ensued, and we all huddled very quickly to share warmth. Our amazing photographer duo Daryl Ann and Joe began to conduct us out of our freezing awkwardness and somehow managed to make us both look poised and beautiful. At this point, our hands were numb, Patrick was everyone’s go to heater, and I didn’t want to let go of our wedding blanket- for the sake of fighting hypothermia. Through it all, the Pacific Northwest did not disappoint. Although we didn’t have the crisp sun, mountain views, or the birds happily flitting through the treetops- we did have something very special. Dramatic clouds enveloped the mountains, draping them in a thick shawl, with light playing and dancing behind them. The forest experiencing reprieve from the disaster that had ensued, allowing us to also embrace that healing. Petrichor was our ambiance, the forest was our color scheme, the lake was our audience, cold chowder was our feast, laughter was our music.