The Not So Big Wedding

I am a procrastinator, including and to the extent of not putting my wedding pictures in an album for more than two decades. This deficit came into high relief a couple of summers ago when my daugther, the photographer, got married.
Again, I was somewhat tardy, but only weeks, -- well, maybe a very few months -- went by before I got to the photo-album stage and dutifully recorded this charming and well-thought-out ceremony in a by-god picture album. (By that I mean the kind you can hold and flip through, not the kind on-line.)
Now, more than a year later, with a hefty album that is only one-third full of my daughter's wedding photos, and, more recently, another third full of my new grandson's first Christmas, etc., I decided to put in my own wedding photos where they could be protected and admired.
There are 60-plus photos, snapshots, really, that were captured during my 1987 wedding to Tommy.
While I see us as much the same, intrinsically, it's hard to recognize the perky and determined couple walking down the aisle. Younger, thinner versions of ourselves, of course. But also an apparent lift in our step that says 'this is just the beginning of a wonderful, eventful life.' And so it has been, so far.
Moving on to the larger family shot, my mom, in an uncharacteristic tea-length dress, smiles knowingly. Pleasant, but exuding an of-the-world attitude, as if she can predict what's in store but still seems happy to see two people whom she loves beginning their life together.
Then my dad, standing in the background, quietly smiling. On the exterior, a jolly hail-fellow sort, he remained emotionally distant most of my life -- yet in so many other ways was a steadfast presence, always there to back me up. It will be another two decades before the smoking catches up with him. My dad, Ed, died of lung cancer in 2008.
But the hardest one to look at is little Kelsey. A heart-breaker at her core, in these photos she is 4 years old and beautifully outfitted in a fancy pink dress. Her swingy blonde bob exudes cheerfulness belied by her expression -- not unpleasant but not at ease, a wary child who learned or was simply born knowing to watch out for herself. Now she seems so happy watching out for own son, Silas, who is almost 9 months old, like she was practicing for motherhood all along.
These photos are a crystal ball in reverse -- showing us the people we were before we followed the trajectory that brought us where we are today.
Those of us still on this earth are mostly still together. And good things are happening. Just maybe not the ones we had in mind as we strode so purposefully down the aisle.