Before the day ended I had decided on the opening sentence of this post:
This is a story about a house.
Leona and Aaron’s wedding day was a relaxing one.
Yet at the same time, there was this density of emotion from the families and close friends.
I could imagine their childhood, where they have their fights, their meals, who gets the front seat, who tried to reconcile first.
It’s like those nostalgic memories imprinted by an insurance ad.
A telecommunications brand.
Somewhere from a movie.
Maybe a mental image constructed from reading a gardening magazine in a waiting room somewhere.
You know at the back of your head what a ‘happy family’ should look like but you’re not sure if you actually experienced any of them.
There wasn’t any big entrance or exit. The groom’s mum single-handedly prepared all the food. We drove to the nearest park for some portraits and back just in time so they could spend time with the guests.
As I left Strathmore that night I could feel that warm energy glowing afar, and I knew it was from that one house.
