The Day After

Since I gave up drinking I can’t stay up late at parties. After a lovely wedding and lots of dancing I finally had to pull the plug and go back to our little heatless cottage and snuggle into bed. My friend David stayed to party on, but eventually walked the wooded path home after midnight. Apparently even David missed the late night drama that took place in the wee hours of the morning when after so many hours of partying things can go awry. 
We awoke to a blue sky day so perfect in its crisp beginning to learn of the tragedy that had taken place in Orlando. Wanting to stay in that blissful bubble of new love at a wedding I chose not to read any news stories and instead went to have breakfast with the wedding party at the grand house they had rented for the wedding.
We sat on the lawn with the sun shining on us and did the rehash of the day before. All deciding that Cory and Eric had thrown a glorious wedding. My dearest friend Wendie, the mother of the bride, was surrounded by her oldest and closest friends. Only a wedding brings out so many loved ones at the same time. The conversations go something like this, “Didn’t I meet you at Cory’s baptism?” Or ” I have heard so many stories about you from Wendie, at last I get to know you.”

The after part of a party is probably my favorite part. Cory and her sister Bonnie lay on the grass looking at the Instagram posts from all the wedding guests and loving getting the different perspectives of the wedding. It is such a new phenomenon. I handed Cory my phone and let her scroll through the photos I had taken and airdrop the ones she wanted right to her own phone.

After all the loving on each other was done David and I had to depart. On our way back north we stopped in Plymouth to grab a bite to eat since we were going to be on planes tonight. We parked the car and walked the tourist route passed Plymouth Rock. It was a rather small boulder, about the size of a wheelbarrow with the number 1620 inscribed on it. It was a good thing those pilgrims got there in 1620, otherwise they might have trouble finding a rock with 1621, or 1623 in it.
That was when the Orlando Massacre hit me. Those pilgrims came fleeing religious persecution and created a place where they were free to worship and now we have a crazy person miss using religion to persecute others.  
I had spent the weekend surrounded in wedding bliss, enjoying the obvious love that Cory and Eric have for each other, I want to ignore the horrible hate that happened else where, but can’t. I don’t know how we do it, but somehow we need to rise up in love and learn to all live in harmony.  

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