The trip up was wonderful. The seat beside me was empty so I could stretch out and put my feet up. I read. I napped. I did whatever I wanted whenever I wanted on my direct flight into Edmonton. It was the most I remember ever enjoying flying.
We went straight to the church to help decorate. And my high school friend who has since moved to Edmonton showed up at the church to help us. We worked hard, we stayed late, we were happy.
The wedding day was as all wedding days. It was beautiful. It was full. (Yet we managed to squeeze in time for some of my younger siblings to watch UHF and laugh at most of the important places.) James married a lovely girl, and he is clearly very, very in love with her. It was quite touching.
At the evening reception I sat between my closest brother (he and I were both without our better halves for economical reasons) and my best friend from my childhood, whom I hadn’t seen in 17 years and who has coincidentally since moved to Edmonton and had worked for the father of the groom for a while. She is exactly the same for all of her good traits. It was amazing, uplifting, and intimidatingly perfect. I talked too much and too loudly to compensate for my own insecurities.
Once the day was done, and the hall returned to it’s pre-wedding state, I, too, was done. All I wanted to do was go home. I was exhausted, and I missed my family dearly. Paul had taken the clean laundry out of the dryer and placed it on my side of the bed so he could sleep. I was sleeping in a single and had no such option.
Returning to Canada always makes me happy, and I love to visit with my family. But they have moved to Edmonton. Edmonton is not home, and I couldn’t wait to leave.
I awoke on Sunday morning with Eli’s sore throat, and an eagerness to get out of the prairie and back to my family. It is a real shame that the trip home was not as good as the trip up.