@etherealemerson
10 July 2012 : Family + Genus : Days After the Wedding
Mason,
My brother was married this past weekend. It was quite an adventure, only to say the least. My house was filled to the seams with family that extended two + three generations back (many I have never met before until this weekend). This was my first moment alone to scribble a reply to you, but I still share my room with my snoring cousin. He sounds like he’s got a pixie stuck up his nose. Every time he exhales it sounds like when you whistle with grass between your thumbs.
The ceremony had the whole family in a fuss. I have never seen my brother in such a state! He was such a wreck that nothing would quell him. It became infectious at one point, and my mum caught his nerves. The whole cottage was in a uproar days leading up to the big day.
It stormed most of the morning of the ceremony: we were going to celebrate in the stone circle center of town. Albeit, after a few tweaks, we had the Handfasting in the village temple.
The limestone temple was quickly charmed and adorned to mimic the summer sun with sunflowers as big as my face + flowering vines that stretched from wall to wall. Loretta, a village elder, charmed the temple ceiling to a sunny day, which filled the entire hall with a yellow glow. Everyone has seemed to forgotten the rain delay after the faux sun came over head.
My friend, I have never doubted love’s magic on us mortals... However, watching my brother’s face light up as his wife walked down the aisle, it stirred not just me, but I believe every wizard in attendance. I’ve seen the look before, but I feel that each lover’s look is different. I’ve been my dad behold mun my whole life. I held all love to their light. But watching my brother behold his love, I saw a different look. Longing + true, but different yet familiar.
Forgive my friend, I may be rambling at this point. Truth is that I haven’t had 7 hours of sleep strung together in over a week. Tonight is the last night that I bunk with boisterous sleeper. Tomorrow, my dad has portkeys for everyone with the Dochary name that doesn't call this home.
I enjoyed your last letter. You have the hand of a story teller. I fear you may have spoiled me with your written word. And I need, nay insist, you write to me soon.
Yours,
Elinor.