There is a special exhilaration involved in the re-reading of a favorite book. The hesitation, fearful of an unexpected disappointment in an old love, lingers only among the first few pages. While the plot line remains a reliable standby, the subtleties quietly transform with each read through. The adventures gain more thrill, the heartaches yield greater sorrow, and the final page renders a fresh significance previously obscured. In between the worn chapters rife with notes and shaky underlines, a tender new passion emerges.
We wanted a simple wedding, a quiet moment for the two of us to remember as ours alone. We hoped to sidestep the complicated agenda, seating charts, and entertaining a hundred or so guests. Our list of needs included a dress, a beach, and a legal officiant to declare us Mr. and Mrs. A few short weeks ago, our dreamy musings came to life on Playa Langosta.
Logan woke with the sun and set out to catch some early morning waves. Brianna indulged in coffee and a little Virginia Woolf on the deck. Without stress or distraction we spent the day relaxing and clinking mimosa glasses with Connie and Jeff. When we finally dug our toes into the sand and made our way down the isle, the sun was slipping slowly into the Pacific. A warm glow settled around us as we committed a lifetime of devotion to one another.
Perhaps it is one of our many tragic flaws as humans to believe a single read through encompasses us in complete understanding. Like the constantly evolving universe tucked away on our bookshelves, we must keep reading, keep reaching, keep challenging perspective and perception. As our own story evolves, the adventures, the setting, and the revolving cast of characters seem to materialize in a fashion stranger than fiction. Like a favorite book, our tale will grow more passionate with time, more humbling with the experience and adventure we seek out. As we write these pages now, we know we will look back to find a fresh beat, an allegory in constant metamorphosis.