Going from intense clouds of humidity to cool, refreshing days is one of my favorite things about summer. It’s a soft reminder that although things are getting bad, there is always a morning ahead.
Wedding planning is starting to get tough, and my brain’s propensity for juggling trivial things like napkin color and length of bouquet ribbon is suffering. Checking spreadsheets daily and plowing through e-mails with vendors is difficult. I want quiet to read for leisure and think about the stars. I want to go dress-shopping without thinking about how many crunches I have left before I can buy that dress without a stomach from Mod Shop (honeymoon only, I’m not that far gone). I want mental space to prepare for what being a wife really means. The weather’s cute little reminder that the projects will soon culminate in a giant party of celebrating Christ and each other floats up, lounging in the sweet breeze.
Brides, former brides or brides-to-be: What’s your favorite way to de-stress and get away from the craziness?
“Vacation” by Rita Dove
I love the hour before takeoff,
that stretch of no time, no home
but the gray vinyl seats linked like
unfolding paper dolls. Soon we shall
be summoned to the gate, soon enough
there’ll be the clumsy procedure of row numbers
and perforated stubs—but for now
I can look at these ragtag nuclear families
with their cooing and bickering
or the heeled bachelorette trying
to ignore a baby’s wail and the baby’s
exhausted mother waiting to be called up early
while the athlete, one monstrous hand
asleep on his duffel bag, listens,
perched like a seal trained for the plunge.
Even the lone executive
who has wandered this far into summer
with his lasered itinerary, briefcase
knocking his knees—even he
has worked for the pleasure of bearing
no more than a scrap of himself
into this hall. He’ll dine out, she’ll sleep late,
they’ll let the sun burn them happy all morning
—a little hope, a little whimsy
before the loudspeaker blurts
and we leap up to become
Flight 828, now boarding at Gate 17.