Excerpt

Heath, Catheryn, and Clare hustled inside the chapel leaving me little choice but to follow with a sleepy Payton on my hip. We discreetly shuffled in and found a pew toward the back. I sat with the grace of an eighty-year old lady and landed with a not so gentle thud on the solid pine, pew bench. Off loading Payton, I watched as he curled into a ball with his head cushioned on my lap. His gentle breathing and peaceful expression combined with the quiet atmosphere allowed the fatigue of the last three days to root and roll through my entire body. I stroked Payton’s blond hair and wondered for a moment if anyone would notice if I stretched out along beside him. Deciding against it, I rolled my neck, stifled a yawn, and scanned the numerous unfamiliar faces throughout the chapel. Everyone else, oblivious to the fact the wedding should have begun an hour ago, appeared alert and joyful while they awaited the union of Phil and Ella.

So why was it I found myself seated, exhausted, hurriedly dressed, and not looking forward to the ceremony of my loved ones?

Here’s the thing…

For years the female members of my family had traveled to my Aunt’s home in upstate New York for Estrogen Weekend. For five glorious days we would wander the neighboring counties for antique and flea market treasures. No children, no husbands, no itinerary, nothing was looked forward to more.

Two years ago, my cousin Phil, a thirty-three year old a jack-of-almost-everything, announced he and Ella intended to take the plunge and tie their nuptials in with our weekend.

Hey, thanks for saving me an extra trip to New York, but don’t screw with my weekend!

Phil and Ella’s vision of their wedding was a shabby sheik affair for about one hundred family and friends. Honestly, despite the mentioning of the potential wedding, I wasn’t holding my breath. The odds were this bohemian pair would elope or possibly forego the whole idea as quickly as they had verbalized the thought.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t forgotten.

Seventy-two hours ago I pulled into my Aunt’s property as an invited wedding guest. To my horror I discovered two years was merely enough time for an implosion of Phil’s ADD to occur.

The mastered gypsy lifestyle of Phil and Ella did not follow the template of main stream American living; growing up, schooling, employment, car payments, rent, eventual mortgage, marriage, and babies. Not in any particular order mind you, but a check list none the less.

Phil and Ella’s lifestyle was more of a ‘create as you go’, ‘roll with it’ design. They would move from place to place on a whim, find a place to squat and auspiciously fall into “meaningful” employment.

Their current squatter’s residence was a friend of a friend’s vacant lake front property. Phil and Ella moved in under the guise of exchanging home improvements for rent. They had been living there a year and a half now and no improvements had yet to occur. In fact the hot water heater which was to be the first repair, Phil and Ella deemed unnecessary. “Georgia,” Phil had told me, “There is a perfectly good lake just fifteen feet from our door which works just fine, three seasons a year, for bathing.”

On impulse Phil and Ella would pull up stakes and leave promises unfulfilled and debts outstanding. Yet along the way good people had befriended and supported them, looked out for them, and nurtured them.

It was truly an obscure way of surging through life.

But really, here’s the thing; we’re at the marriage. With a sleeping child on my lap in a quaint country side chapel surrounded by one hundred family and friends, it was happening. Phil and Ella were about to take the plunge.

But oh… how had we arrived at this moment?

How much insanity could a body wade through on adrenaline, sweat and self preservation?

Grab a life jacket folks…after surviving those six seemingly infinite days…

…I will tell you.