Honey, you are invited to our second wedding.

This is the beach where I always thought I would get married, or at least I could picture it.  Isn’t it heavenly?  It’s just a few miles away from where I live. This particular beach is on the west side of our island, so it’s a special favorite for sunset dinners.

For some reason often, when there, in my mind’s eye I would see a bride coming around that corner.  At low tide you can walk all the way around that corner and disappear into the trees.  So I always saw her coming from there, dressed in glorious flowing white silk, walking easily along the beachfront.  (Though I’ve often wondered how she accomplished such graceful elegant movement on such an uneven surface.)  In my mind it was gorgeous.  And I thought perhaps it might be my wedding.

It wasn’t.  First of all I didn’t wear white. Second of all, I was on a beach, but in a different country. Thirdly, if I had been on this beach I wouldn’t have had as much fun, primarily because I would have had to invite everyone we know and plan the whole thing (which both my husband and I hate doing, so we didn’t.) Some day I’ll tell you what we did instead.

The other night as we walked down the beach with our kids I told my husband and a friend about my beautiful wedding image.  And I said, “Maybe I should just do a photo shoot here sometime! I’ll come around the corner in a gorgeous white wedding dress and ogle the pics afterward.”

“I could invite you!” I said excitedly turning to my husband. “Maybe it’ll be a surprise for our anniversary. I’ll leave you a little note on the counter. ‘Dear Love, Meet me at Lisabeula (the name of this beach) at low tide.’”

“P.S. Wear something nice,” my husband added.