She was fidgeting. She was nervous. Hell, I was nervous. No matter how many weddings I shoot, the edge never really wears off. Thankfully. Sometimes its like I close my eyes only to open them and find myself in happy places beyond my reasoning. At the base of Bridal Veil Falls in Yosemite. On the snow white parched ground of the Bonneville Salt flats. My toes buried deep in the black sand beach of an exotic island. On this particular day I opened my eyes to find myself under the looming shade of a 1941 cargo plane in the heart of Napa Valley. I reached up and ran my hand along the cold aluminum propeller blade, wiping away the cob webs as I went. Out of curiosity I gave it a little tug and it didn’t budge. Locked up from half a century of rust no doubt. The whole day had been slightly surreal to begin with. An afternoon of iced lemonade, croquet on the lawn, and the smell of cigars lingering in the air and to end it like this is, well, incredible. Katelyn took Mike by the hand and leaned into him. He pulled a tiny white hanky from his coat pocket and wiped the smallest bead of sweat from her brow. Then he leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. She closed her eyes and grinned and melted. Right there, melted. It was close to 85 degrees in the shade and she still couldn’t seem to get close enough to him. They were finally married. After all this time, all this planning, after the guests were fed and left to enjoy the company of one another, there were no more decisions to be made. It was finished and she seemed thankful for the opportunity to finally take a moment to “just be”. To be his.
She rested her head on his shoulder and let out a sigh and with her eyes still closed she said “Okay, Clatyon. We’re all yours.”
I drew my camera to my eye and without skipping a beat I whispered just loud enough to be heard.
“Don’t move a thing. Stand still. Look pretty…”