The Wonder That’s Keeping The Stars Apart
It was fairly apparent fairly quickly that Abbi and I had something special together.
Above all, our relationship was low-key, well-paced, and light on drama. It wasn’t (and isn’t) all sunsets, walks in the park, long runs, and bouquets flowers (though there was all that). There was (and remains) a healthy dose of constructive narrative tension. But it evolved naturally. It was obvious; It just felt right. Most importantly, there was laughter, and lots of it.
Even before we got engaged, we tended towards some of those wedding shows. And though our values seemed (and remain to appear) pretty similar, we had some conceptual disagreement over how we imagined our respective weddings. I wanted a Nantucket backyard. She didn’t. I wanted small. She didn’t. I wanted casual. You get the idea.
As our wedding approached, though, our collective and individual resolve began to transform itself. We learned some valuable lessons about compromise. We gained some practical insight on letting go. And — on many things (including, it should be noted, the stuff that really mattered like that it should be deeply spiritual but non-denominational) — we found ourselves in total and complete agreement.
One component of our wedding ceremony upon which Abbi and I agreed instantly was our reading. Abbi suggested ee cummings’ “i carry your heart with me.” I loved it. And I still do.
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
Abbi’s best friend, Monica, read it perfectly, rolling rhythmically through the lyrical build towards the great reveal: “here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life.” It was a perfect choice for a very real, very-grounded ceremony because it was not. It is poetic, cryptic, evocative and mysterious — all important components, I think, of a healthy marriage.
Six months later, this love grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide.
Six months later, that the universe finally unfolded as it should still thrills and confounds me.
Six months later, I still thank those stars that Abbi walked into my life, said hello, and changed it forever.
She is my wonder.