I was too busy having fun to take photos. but my daughter managed to grab this shot of the fabulous ceiling as we were settling into our seats.
I went to a wedding this week.
Dreamy summer night.
Brick walls and twinkle lights.
Bouquet- and garter-tossing.
And plenty of bumping tunes.
Every element of the traditional yet updated wedding fell perfectly into place.
And a best man with a speech full of jokes.
Each person there, both my long-time friends and the new acquaintances I made, warmed my heart.
I was unreservedly content, completely at ease, and genuinely grateful to celebrate this special day with the happy couple and their guests.
And while this fact matters not at all to me, this was a room full of Korean-Americans. Tparents and their peers had mostly emigrated to the U.S. in the 1980s; most of the young adults were full-blood Korean, born and raised in mainstream American culture, but accustomed to keeping company with their ethnic homies.
I was one of maybe ten straight-up whiteys in the room.
Some may see that as odd or extraordinary or slightly bizarre, but I can only say how fortunate I feel to have been part of James' and Jiyoon's wedding.