"Harei
at mekudeshet li…"
"Mekudeshet!"
"Mazal
tov!"
Moments later,
after stamping his foot to break the glass, the groom kissed his bride and their
families rushed to crowd around them under the simple cloth huppah
canopy. The grey-bearded rabbi stepped back, his role in the short ceremony of
sanctifying their union completed, and the DJ raised the music to an
ear-splitting level.
"Aren’t
you going to congratulate them?" Miri asked.
"Not yet,"
I said, holding back as the wedding guests surged past, getting in line to hug
the new couple, to plant air kisses on their cheeks, to shake their hands.
"I'm not sure he'll remember me. We haven't seen each other since
childhood."
"Of
course, he remembers you! He invited you to the wedding, after all. Go up there
already."
I hesitated.
Too many people, too much noise—the typical hubbub of an Israeli garden wedding.
I would approach the groom when things got quieter, when I'd have a chance to say
more to him than a perfunctory "Mazal tov!"
Read the rest of the story on TheMockingOwl Roost: Unexpected Delights, page 37 of the PDF.
Photo by Andreas Rønningen on Unsplash
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