Memoir

It was my oldest cousin’s wedding day. This was the first wedding I had ever attended and my whole family from my mother’s side was reunited for the first time. I was eight years old and my family traveled to all the way to the English country side for a week of celebration and happiness.

            My huge English family (my mum had four brothers and three sisters) drove to the ceremony in a pack black Mercedes-Benz’. It was raining out and everyone was frantically running around trying to keep dry.

            The church we drove down to was in the middle of the beautiful English town of Weymouth. I swear everyone in Weymouth knew each other, something I was not used to living in Los Angeles where people don’t even know their neighbor’s names. The church had beautiful pointed arches and seemed even more beautiful in the harsh rain.

            When my cousin exited the car, she illuminated the misty air. It’s funny, I used to hate brides. My mum always tells me stories of how I used to cover my eyes in horror every time we would drive by a bridal party getting their photos taken in the Beverly Hills Park. But when my cousin walked up the stairs to the church, I wasn’t frightened at all, I was even drawn to how magical she looked.

            The ceremony seemed to go on and on and on. As an eight-year-old you can imagine how long a traditional English wedding might seem.

            Cut to the after party. My aunt and uncle’s beautiful seaside home turned into a castle for the night. People were dancing, drinking, and letting go. I remember a relative that I had never met, clearly having a few too many glasses of champagne,  came up to me accusing me that I had a glass of red wine in my hand. I was eight. I said “No, it’s Coke.” She took my glass, through the straw on the ground, and gulped down the entire drink until there was nothing but ice left. “Oh, you’re right,” she said as she handed me the glass and walked toward the bar.

            Cut to the next morning. Silence. I woke up and noticed my mum was already up. I tiptoed out of my room, stopped in my tracks, and tried to listen if I could hear any voices in this old mansion.

            I made my way to the kitchen, knowing that every morning my aunt is in there making tea and big breakfasts for everyone.