Today was a unique experience.  I attended a Fairytale Wedding.   Everything was there but the pink cloud, and somehow, it could be felt if not seen.  At least the scent of gardenias, the plant of lovers, filled the air as its perfume floated off the wrist of every bridal party member.    Assuming, of course, that pink clouds in romantic fairytales have the fragrance of gardenias, if not, perhaps roses.   I have precious few blood relatives in this world, so when I received a wedding invitation from my cousin Tracy, I knew I wanted to go, for her as well as myself.  It would be good to see at least two faces that reminded me I wasn’t cloned in a closet somewhere, and had DNA connections, remotely or otherwise.  As weddings are not my forte’, with a sense of loyalty and duty, I put on my “married or buried” favorite dress.  I also decided to wear the “diamond dazzler” on my finger that my mom had passed onto me, and the new earrings I had gotten at the local value center that sparkled just as well as the real thing.  Emotionally garbed for the event, I forged my way onward and upward to the beautiful Napa Valley, squinting here and there along the way at the tiny map that had arrived with the engraved wedding invitation.
     When I reached the Williams Estate, I thought of Tara from the movie classic, Gone With the Wind.   The main house was a magnanimous two story structure with four impressive columns holding up a covered porch area at the entrance.  I thought of the columns pushed over by Samson’s new-found strength in the final moments of the Biblical account when I looked at them.  They made a statement.  Placed on a hill, the estate had an unsullied view of the magnificent Napa Valley and its surrounding hills, vineyards, flora and fauna.  The grounds featured an elegant rose garden with a blend of other color splashes of flowers.  The graceful branches of old trees almost whispered poetry unto themselves with their beauty and leaf patterns as the breeze of the day tickled their leaves against the sky.  From one of these trees hung a white porch swing, it’s ropes draped with artificial grape vines and netting.   Guests were directed to park within the white board fenced pasture area at the top of the hill, next to an impressive black and white two story barn structure that also had living quarters at its rooftop level.
     Approaching the registration table from the parking area, I was delighted to see a large bowl of disposable Kodak flash cameras for each guest.  I momentarily regretted my hasty purchase of film, en route to the event, but elected to go ahead and use my own, somewhat cumbersome, camera.  The promise of many Kodak moments was definitely in the air.   Next to the bowl of cameras sat a large silver bowl with the family name engraved on it. This bowl, an ice bucket of sorts, contained white plastic bottles with doves on their lids.  Satin ribbons were tied to the neck of these bottles, securing a carded engraving documenting the event.  These were soap bubbles to blow toward the bride and groom as they took their first dance as husband and wife.  “Really cool,” I thought with a sigh.  Looking around, I knew this was going to be a really special…spelled with a dollar sign…type of day…I had stepped into the golden looking glass and left the Wall Mart plastic hand mirror of life world behind.
     I placed my wrapped gift, a fancy cookbook from Sam’s club, something every bride can always use, on the gift table beside the large engraved silver ice bucket.  Before leaving the registration table every guest was photographed individually.  I reflected on the fact that I’d worn my favorite dress as the shutter clicked.  I don’t like being photographed, and somehow it made the difference.
     Tara, or the Williams Estate, had a large patio area with white plastic tables and chairs for its guests.  The tables had small flowering garden plants in clay pots as centerpieces, and snack mixes were in clay pots as well.  Across from the dining area was the wine/water/snack table.  Keeping with the theme of Napa Valley wines, the table was draped with artificial vines of grapes.  Here one could get red or white wine, champaign, soft drinks, or bottled water.  Two huge wheels of cheese were also on the table beside two silver trays of water crackers.   As a stranger alone in a strange place, I got a glass of white wine and began to take in the view and begin my photography venture with my English penpal Dawn, and my young bride-to-be neighbor in mind.  Both would have been with me, given the opportunity, and it helped the sense of aloneness knowing this.  I spoke with one of the guests who pointed out two beautiful curved staircases that lead from the second floor of the magnificent structure and was told the wedding party would ascend from this area to the columned porch for the ceremony.  Grapevines joined by white netting formed an isle to the porch area where the couple would take their vows.  
     After several meaningful romantic songs from the soundboard speaker system, the “event” was about to begin.  Down the staircase came the wedding party, nine bridesmaids, nine groomsmen, two little boys in tuxs, and four darling little girls, all preschoolers, holding onto a long grape vine to keep themselves together.  Finally the bride, her mom and the groom appeared.  Tracy was stunning.  She is a swimmer and her tanned body is structured perfectly.  If the eyes are the mirror of the soul, Tracy’s bubbled like the Champaign of the Napa Valley because her eyes sparkled.  Her white beaded low cut gown complimented every God given curve. Tracy is a young woman who turns heads with her physical beauty even in an old tee shirt, but at the Fairytale Wedding, she was, indeed, the show.  Her husband was a lovely young man, princely himself and a perfect compliment to the princess in white.  Tracy laughed and smiled into his eyes as they exchanged her vows.  I remembered how I had cried during my own sacred moment, and wished my heart had been as light as hers.  I envied her that, but was very happy for her ability to look life in the face without such seriousness and simply rejoice in gladness and laughter at this special time.  As the new couple turned to walk away from the minister, Tracy paused for a moment and looked back, flashing a bright smile.  It was at that time that seven doves were released and circled heavenward into the blue of the sky.  It was the perfect romantic fairytale touch that delighted the heart of one and all.After picture taking, Tracy joined the wedding party at a long table that reminded me of the one in the famous portrait of the Last Supper.  She opened a large box and began to hand her wedding attendants beautiful crystal champaign glasses.  Instead of stems at the base the year 2000 was formed in large crystal numbers.  One of the attendants yelled, “Look!  Our names are engraved on them!”  Tracy flashed her bright confident smile.  It was cool.  The perfect thank you and memento.
     By this time I had found my aunt and cousin Tess, Tracy’s sister.  Tess made me feel welcome and at ease.  She said, “We don’t have much family, so we need to stick together.  Come over and sit with us.” I agreed and was glad to do so.   We talked about mutual family distanced by miles and death.  Tess is blatant, earthy and funny.  I felt a real connectedness with her.  She shared about her fantasy wedding reception area being in a grove of trees in a distant community, and I shared mine of being married in Armstrong Woods.  Somehow it seemed significant, like a DNA  thing, leaving me with a sense of connection.
     The perfect wedding had to have the perfect meal, and this one did.  We went over to the buffet table with its silver and china plates and I made the most of the moment.  There was Caesar salad, new potatoes, an incredible pasta salad that featured not only green olives but black ones as well with three beans and pesto, a glorious concoction I put under my proverbial cap for duplication down the line.  The meal also featured baked skinless chicken breasts, the traditional rolls, and last but not least, tri tip roast.  Everything done to perfection.  Under the portico of “Tara” where our table was located, the meal was a true “experience”.  As Tess spoke, she waved her hands about in animation, and when she did, the gardenia on her wrist filled the air with its sweet perfume and pink cloud presence.

     After the meal, the bride threw her bouquet, the groom tossed the garter, and the wedding dance took place.  Bubbles filled the air.  The music began for one and all.

     Finally, the wedding cake was cut.  It was on separate graduated in height, pillars and not the traditional stacked in tiers cake.  Each layer was a different kind of cake.  I chose carrot.   It was sweet and moist, the perfect wedding cake for the fairytale wedding, a rainbow of flavors and textures to suit each enchanted guest as a wrap-up to a splendid occasion.
It had been a long afternoon, and I thought of my mom watching my grandson for me back in the real world.  I hugged Tess and promised to email, hugged her mom, and promised to share the moment with my grandma in Ohio, Tracy’s aunt, the next day, and found my way to an exuberant Tracy and hugged her goodbye, and wished her happy ever afters, my favorite blessing.
     Taking one last look, in reflection, at the afternoon’s events and the beauty of the valley, I walked through the opening in the white board fence that lead to the parking area and to my awaiting vehicle. 
     Exiting the grounds of someone’s dream come true on top of a hill in the Napa Valley, I turned my favorite tape up on high in the tape deck, speakers blasting, to help with the transition into the real world of roads with traffic and commercial buildings, and other sordid realities.
     Sometimes life seems like a fitful night’s sleep, mid summer, a tossing and turning experience on the cool of a white cotton pillowcase from one dream state into another, with the hot sticky repositioning period of discomfort being the bridge between the worlds.   In rare but precious moments, one drifts into a fairytale type of dream where hearts are merry and love prevails. That dream twinkles like a wishing star in the darker ones that come and go, and it creates a precious reserve to call upon in reflection.   The next time I smell gardenias, I know I will smile and remember the presence of joy and doves flapping their wings in the glory of new-found freedom in a celebration of love in a fairytale come true.

                                           
 
 

               Written with love for my second cousin Tracy Hendricks and her bridegroom Ed, June 24, 2000

                                                           Jennifer Grant