the conga line

once a year, my family vacations on the coast. at my great aunt's house, with the overstuffed couches that you just sink into, the big long wooden dinner table and the hundreds of movies. it's a treat, really. one that we look forward to all year.

robert and i headed down a night early and soaked up a little adventure before we met my parents. we spent a balmy afternoon strolling around historic new bern, n.c. beautiful, brick storefronts. a glistening river. we could see why nicholas sparks lives here. the place is a novel.

on the way back to our car, we walked past a little catholic church. the oldest one in the state, according to the bronze plaque. and we stopped. just across the street, a little crowd was gathered. we stood behind the trees as a beautiful bride waltzed out the old doors. we watched in silence (and attempted anonymity) as she ran into the arms of her new husband, greeted him with a kiss saved for newlyweds (that second kiss where no one is supposed to be looking), and drove off in a horse drawn carriage.

and as the clamor died down, we slipped on. and i was reminded that we're all on little adventures. whether its a detour on the way to the beach, or teetering on the cusp of life changing jumps, we're traveling. all traveling. and when we travel together, when those moments of momentum intersect and serendipitously we become spectators in the sojourns of one another, that's pure magic. and the earth bursts at the seam with happiness as we join dancing under the heavenly ceiling, changing partners with the tempo and moving together in this beautiful conga line called life.