A Wedding and a Latte

This past weekend, Joy and I flew to Boston for the wedding of Taylor Horner and Elizabeth Robinson. Without a doubt, it goes straight to the top of the list for Best Wedding Ever, well, at least of the ones I’ve been to. I’m not sure if it takes the absolute prize above other great weddings (it’s hard for any one to be the definitive best), but there was one moment during the reception that I leaned over to Joy as we were eating our butternut squash soup out of baked miniature pumpkins and asked, “Are you enjoying this wedding more than you enjoyed ours? Because I sure am.”

But jokes aside, there were many things that made this wedding special: the fact that it was my first experience being best man (and, in fact, I shared this honor with the esteemed Kevin LaMar Welty), the fact that this was a wedding in the heart of my favorite American city, and the fact that there was a wedding-perfect jazz band playing at the reception (set in an absolutely gorgeous multi-room ballroom, echoing with nuance and sophistication characteristic of early 20th century Boston and its distinct yet approachable refined elegance and gilded art—think “Great Gatsby” without the steroids). All in all, it was one of those rare moments when all that is good and beautiful comes together in some way that is divine and sacred. A little piece of heaven: a celebration of love and beauty that is accented with laughter, friendship, and straight-up joy and dancing.

Anyone who knows me knows that Taylor and I have a unique relationship, and it was a pleasure to spend time with him during the days preceding his wedding. As unassuming as one could ever anticipate in those final 48 hours, Taylor was thoughtful and calm, prepared yet not, and interested in a lot more than just himself and his wedding day. Because of a late night the evening before the wedding, I ended up staying with Taylor in his apartment rather than find my way back to where I was staying for the weekend. Taylor and I talked for a couple of hours into the early morning, and I was reminded of the dozens of times we’d done similarly, with conversations that layered the foundation and established the depth of our relationship. This evening was no different. It wasn’t cluttered with Taylor ruminating over wedding details or clichéd examinations of his imminent future (something I would surely be prone to), but carried the same amount of humility and sensitivity I’ve come to simply expect. Taylor asked me about my new life in Ohio, my academic program, and my life with Joy. He asked about his god-dog, Colby, and we chatted about professional and personal goals. Except for a few moments, the conversation might as well have been happening on any other night in our lives, because Taylor avoids unnecessary ballyhoo.

On the day of the wedding, Taylor and stopped by his favorite coffee shop for some hazelnut lattes. With all of the grand and beautiful events of the weekend, that moment stands out in its quietness and simplicity. While I don’t get to see Taylor in person as much as I once did, those moments remind me of how many unique friendships have formed the core of much of who I am today, and for Taylor to give me such valuable time on his wedding day gives me reason to pause.

The rehearsal dinner was delightful, and the wedding itself was rapturous. The others at the wedding made for hearty laughter, and we danced wildly as the jazz flowed under a glistening ballroom. And on one rainy Sunday afternoon, Taylor and I went out and got lattes. All told, it was as divine and special as a wedding weekend could ever be.