Inspiration

WEDDING

Hallowed Skies over Crissy Field

I am not my body. I am not my body. I am not my body.

I repeat it thrice more, and then keep walking.

Cloud peppered skies are marrying grey fog draped over the bridge. It looks almost holy.

––

If you told me two years ago, that today I’d struggle to walk half a mile, I’d laugh. A pandemic couldn’t happen, I couldn’t be crippled by a disease that I swore I wouldn’t get. I was eighteen years old. I was invincible.

But here I am, my body a caged witness to the events unfurling above me. A cage with legs, and a heart. A heart that still struggles to beat even a month after recovering from disease. Legs that now shake as I stroll on wet sand under grey skies.

I was eighteen years old and invincible and I was still scared of time, though now I wish it moved faster. I never liked weddings. I was scared of nineteen, I was scared of twenty. I had hoped I wouldn’t be scared when I got here.

The ceremony continues. The fog reaches up to caress the sunlight, a ring. A moment of warmth drenches me, but the groom obscures it with his hand.

I’m now twenty and the fear still reigns triumphant. My life is one-fifth over, maybe more. The wedding continues despite my objections, the wind masks my defiance as the guests get up to dance. I am a hapless speck on the vast dance floor, and rain starts to fall like the bottoms of shoes on polished wood. If only I could escape - I’m too small. I could run for miles and still be dodging the footsteps of heavenly dancers. The cage is bigger than I thought. I will never leave.

––

There’s a Buddhist proverb about a woman being chased by a tiger, when she comes to the edge of a cliff. There’s nowhere to go but down. In desperation, she climbs over the edge down a sturdy vine, but alas, another tiger lies waiting below. Two mice, one black and one white, emerge and begin to chew the vine.

A ripe strawberry grows beside her, she puts it in her mouth and bites down slowly. Rich red juice drips down her chin and onto pacing death. She tastes how sweet and tart it is, how lovely the flesh feels crushed between her teeth. There are but few things the mouse cannot take from us, and this is one of them.

I am caged and I am scared, but life is full of berries and I have many left to taste. The passage of time cannot mar my present state. I am twenty years old but someday I won’t be. I won’t be twenty and I won’t be old. I’ll just be.

I look to the table again but this time see a place setting with my name on it. In the center of the table, a cornucopia of red fruit. Look at the sky, the water. Look at the great blue heron like a statue waiting for something to free it from the stone. The fishing lines and the invited guests who throw them.

I will never see this again. I could come back tomorrow, the day after and see the same bridge, the same heron, the men who cast lines, but the wedding will be over. I’ll never see this, again.

The strawberry tastes sweeter when you know you’ll never taste it again. When you know there’s nothing left to do but savor the now ‘fore the later consumes you. What I thought was a cage was really a vessel, because I am not my body. I lay back and soak up sweet juice seeping through the damp sand. The guests are departing and the groom dissipates into the bride, now shining with pride reflected off her new ring. My body aches, my breathing is heavy, but my mind - my mind is searching for another wedding to crash.

Words and Photos: Niko Frost