A Destination Wedding Is Not for the Faint of Heart (Part 3)

The final part!!!

If you’re new to Silver-Studded Blue, catch up on the beginning here.

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Part 3

Friday, May 29th - 9:30am (Wakefield, MA)

The path to hotel breakfast is paved with good intentions. I sit with my well-balanced meal of powdered eggs, fried potatoes, and open notebook. (I have some extra time with my thoughts this morning as Laura is not an early riser.)

I have big plans. After breakfast, drive to Salem —> Spend a few hours walking around —> find a cute restaurant for lunch —> drive back to the hotel —> get ready for the wedding —> be on the shuttle by 4:30pm —> celebrate.

Seems TOTALLY reasonable to me. How is this a bad plan??

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Friday, May 29th - 10:52am

lol. I am the only one who is vertical, but we’re making progress. George has Door Dashed coffees and the energy is on the rise. I sit down with my book, assess the time, and mourn my plan for the day.

(Now, if you’re reading this and screaming but how often are you THIS CLOSE to Salem? How are you just not going to go explore??? I hear you. That was my internal monologue as well. However, for the sake of time I’m going to skip the 5 stages of grief and go straight to the positives.)

1. The objective of the weekend: celebrate our friends getting married. Anything else is just a fun bonus

2. Even if we had left bright and early, we still would be cutting it close on time and we would be TIRED

3. Efficiency is overrated

4. Often, travel is about who you connect with more than how much you can do in one day

5. Making any type of new memory is never a waste of time

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Friday, May 29th - Noon(ish)

I have a lot of rules surrounding meals when I travel because food is something that lights my soul on fire. I find the stories/culture/artistry/nature of food deeply powerful and I’m always chasing that next emotional high. Howeverrrrr, sometimes, occasionally, when necessary…practicality far outweighs novelty. Which is why we are sitting on the patio at Yard House. Their food is good, it’s 3 minutes from our hotel, the menu is big enough to please everyone, Laura can order a half yard of Harpoon, I can order an Aperol Spritz, George can mix a Liquid IV in his water, and there is a Barnes & Nobel across the parking lot. I am relaxed and I am happy and that is the biggest blessing while traveling.

We walk off our meal with a jaunt around B&N. I packed in a carry-on, so I am limited to one (1) stunning hardcover (Ruins by Lily Brooks-Dalton, if you were curious. Let me know if you’ve read it!).

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Friday, May 29th - 2:33pm

It is difficult to explain the beautiful chaos of two women getting ready in a hotel bathroom. It’s anticipation, it’s joy, it’s “does this look even” - all unfolding to a Taylor Swift playlist. Between the makeup, the hot irons, and the toothbrushes, there isn’t an inch of free counter space.

If you’re concerned about George during all of this, you can stop worrying about him. He has his noise cancelling headphones and is keeping busy by steaming our dresses.

“My curling iron is on, fair warning!” I announce to the room (although, mainly to Laura and myself because George can’t hear us). Roughly 20 minutes later, I am wandering the hallways with my hair half-curled, looking for an ice machine. My pinky didn’t stand a chance against that 330 degree iron. I am resilient though, and the show must go on (lol). I alternate between wrapping a strand of hair around the iron and dunking my pinky in a cup of ice.

As the clock approaches 4:30, we scramble with the finishing touches. I shove travel-sized bug spray into my purse while Laura loads Fireball shooters into hers. We are miraculously on time as we file onto the shuttle bus with the other wedding guests. Rain begins to dot the pavement as we pull away from the hotel and head toward the venue.

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Friday, May 29th - 5pm (Beverly, MA)

We are surrounded by natural elegance. Venue sounds a bit insulting, we are on an estate. A country estate, to be clear, not a city mansion. Looking around, I see more green than anything else.

The welcome house is quaint. The sitting room with papered walls makes me feel like I’m stepping into a grandmother’s house. Stepping out of the house, I am nothing short of enchanted. Paved with brick and outlined with stone, the back terrace is a lovely gem. Not in and of itself, but in what lies beyond. Bushes studded with pink flowers sit in-between knobby trees, nothing but wild flora surrounding a lake.

The rain intensifies.

I retreat to the cover of the house, but I can’t help but admire how the rain complements the scene. It’s soft and kind. The type of rain that lends itself to growth rather than devastation. The crowd is unbothered as we settle into the (massive) tent for the ceremony.

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Friday, May 29th - 5:30pm

Liz and Nathan wrote their own vows (to no one’s surprise). Tears of joy are falling all over the room, but my tears are laced with guilt.

I shouldn’t feel this way.

Despite my best effort and the unconditional support I have for Liz and Nathan, I can’t escape the green, envious vine that’s wrapping itself around my heart.

Stop stop stop! This isn’t about you.

My inner monologue is a tug-of-war between the gratitude of getting to share in this moment and the overwhelming sadness that I’m nowhere close to my own confession of love. I’ve spent years searching for my forever person, yet only ever attend weddings alone. I’ve made mistakes, I’ve learned, I’ve grown, I’ve thrown myself into all that life has to offer, but I go home to my one-bedroom apartment.

The guilt of feeling these emotions while I watch such a beautiful moment is hard to process. Have I not done everything right?

That’s the thing about emotions, though, there is no right or wrong. There is no immunity, no matter how much armor you wear. All you can do is feel, then choose how to react.

In this moment I can allow the sadness to take hold or I can acknowledge that I’m allowed to feel multiple emotions at once, put a pin in anything that isn’t serving me at present, and choose to pursue joy until I have the space to address the the longing in my heart.

I choose joy.

Shame and guilt surrounding emotions are a waste of time, and we have a party to attend.

Liz and Nathan say “I do” and we all cheer.

The rest of the night is a whirlwind of adventure.

We have cocktail hour scallops and chicken skewers (honestly, who can think about anything else when there are hors d’oeuvres floating around?). We raise our glasses to toast the happy couple and chow down on a delicious dinner. On the dance floor, Nathan breaks out his saxophone and plays along with the DJ. We dance and dance, only taking breaks to refill our drinks (I’ll let you guess who ordered the French 75, the whiskey on the rocks, and the rosé between Laura, George, and me). We party until they shut us down, then load up the shuttles for the after-party.

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Friday, May 29th - 11:15pm

“Hey girl are you okay?” Laura asks while we sit on the shuttle.

My mind filters through the events of the night.

I could choose to focus on any number of emotions, even the ones that scare me. But I am more than just one moment, one feeling.

I’ve cried. I’ve laughed. I’ve danced. I’ve witnessed. I’ve lived a whole life tonight and I used my whole heart to do it. That’s the most I could ever ask for.

“Yeah, I’m just………content.”