As it turned out, a lot of time wasted on worry. The day was fine. Not too hot, bright enough. And so we headed out to Mirabel and took our places in a church erected in 1840. Settled in, we watched the wedding unfold.
Not too huge a crowd in attendance, which I appreciate, and definitely predominantly francophone (and why do Americans think I'm making that word up?). Rémi et Ève were considerate in having some of the ceremony in English, but really, does it take a gift of tongues to know that two people are in love and committing to it?
After the ceremony, there was no formal receiving line, just people gathered round outside the church.
The two of them looked wonderful, of course. I especially loved the clean line of Ève's gown. Poor them, though: so many photos for them to endure. It's not really their day, in a sense, since they have to share so much of themselves with their family and friends. They bore it well.
I did get a chance after a while to chat with them. I hadn't seen Ève since 1999, in fact. We chatted a bit, pausing as some of the small boys tumbled around nearby in the grass. It must have been immensely freeing for them to no longer have to be on church behaviour. I thought they were a hoot. Ève's feet needed some comfort by then, so I held her bouquet as she slipped out of her shoes into better ones for the reception. Conrad, of course, caught it all. Him, darn him, to borrow from Rémi. Ève let a few of the little girls hold the bouquet as well, so I wasn't all alone in having a moment with it!
Rémi is still handsome as ever, I should add.
My own handsome man cannot leave his cellphone alone for more than a few minutes, it seems. Again, him, darn him!
We really were in rural surroundings though that part of Mirabel might be considered the exurbs, or even a growing suburb of Montreal. Many roadside signs in the area advertised produce stands. Harvest was in full swing, and there was a feeling of autumn in the air, though not in the temperature. Ève's mother's backyard, meanwhile, was strewn with apples fallen from a tree.
There were a few of us there who knew Rémi from our days at McGill. Deborah was one, her parents also in attendance. Andrea, with her boyfriend Mickey, was another classmate. I was especially happy to catch up on things with her. I have fond memories from years back of going with her and her dad and Allison to the basilica in Vieux Montréal to hear a full performance of Le Messie. A glorious evening.
It was a full day, and, happily, we felt no rain until it was just dark and Conrad and I were leaving. Back to our busy airport hotel, but I promise you we managed a good night of sleep!
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