We had been to the lovely wedding of the daughter of John’s first cousin. The church was Katie’s home church, where the minister who performed the ceremony had been her Sunday School teacher when she was young. Her roots were very much there.
I hadn’t thought about wedding roots until our son talked about his friend’s wedding. It was far from the homes of the bride and groom, in another area of the country. He couldn’t go, but he talked to an old friend who did go. That jogged my memory that our daughter had been to a wedding outside the country on a tropical beach. I enjoyed hearing about these glamorous events, but they were out of my league.
I said to son John $, “I haven’t thought about destination weddings in quite a while. Are they still an ‘in’ thing?”
I didn’t stop to think that $ has lived in North Carolina for a number of years. He is so at home hiking and camping in the woods, that you’d never guess he grew up on Long Island. He is a transplant, one whose roots in sandy soil don’t show.
$ had an immediate answer to my question. He shrugged and said, “How would I know? The weddings I go to are usually in barns!”