on the weekend

Another weekend visit to remember: sweet Elise came, for a weekend of wedding dress shopping (for her, to be clear!) and doing what kindred spirits do. We played hard, but also whispered our hopes and fears and prayers. We shared guttural laughter, but also silently enjoyed one another's presence when words weren't necessary. 

Together, we walked the High Line and lunched at Artichoke Basille's Pizza and dined at Los Tacos a few hours later, with Lollino's gelato for dessert. We had so much to share, feeling a certain urgency to disclose all that was on our mind, because we knew we would not be seeing each other until my move to Vancouver come the new year. She, too, is a Quebecer who loves a Fraser Valley boy- and moved there a few weeks ago. When she visited me in New York, she was less than a month out of her dive westward... so we bottled up this precious time together. When I think of the hand of God in our friendship -knitting our hearts together in Montreal only to reveal our friendship would move to Vancouver... well, I'm in an awestruck stated of gratitude. It's a true gift to know she'll be there when I make my way out west. 

Come Saturday, after a light breakfast at Hutch and Waldo's on the Upper East Side, we were off to fulfill one of the focal points of the weekend: wedding dress shopping for her wedding. (eeeeek!) 

Being there with Elise as she walked out in a series of delicate ivory dresses dripping in elegance and beauty was a pinnacle moment in our friendship (though helping Josiah plan the proposal and the day Elise asked me to be her maid of honor are up there, too!). I have no ounce of doubt that this was one of those special memories we'll remember for years and years to come. When, one day far from now, we are covered in grandchildren and our hair is pulled into silver buns and our wrinkles pull the corners of our tired eyes and smiles, we will remember the day she slipped into her dress for the first time, in a small boutique in the heart of Manhattan. 

She tearfully blushed when she walked out in the one. It was not a moment of grand emotions but of blissful peace: a veil was placed atop her dark hair and we both knew, with a simple nod, that this was the dress in which she would marry Josiah. My mind traveled to the moment, three years earlier, when the two of us met for eggs benedict on Peel Avenue in Montreal, and she told me about the Vancouver boy she was seeing -how he loved God, and played music and was quite smitten by her. She, too, was observably infatuated with him. This was but when our friendship was blossoming. And here we were, just in a twinkling of an eye, trying on dresses for the day they would become one. The amount of life- of blessing and hardship and sorrow and profound joy- that has lived itself since then is impossible to recount. One thing, though, is certain: these two have begun building a beautiful life together, and it is an honor to have a front-row seat in it. 

We celebrated the successful bridal appointment with macarons and coffee at Ladurée, excitedly discussing wedding day plans and dreams for the future. We went off to the MET for our fix of Impressionist art, and ended the evening with a Harlem shake on Lenox Ave (a red velvet cake milkshake, for the wonderers). The sky soon turned from cerulean to a yellow that made me think of Tuscany, then onto the hue of a ripe peach and then dusty rose. A true feast for the eyes. 

The next day, we rose bright and early and met our dear friends Emma and Bea for church on 76th. It was a delightful happenstance that everyone was in the city at the same time, and we made a point of enjoying some uninterrupted time together. Being the adamant lovers of brunch that we are, we gawked at the delightful French feast set before us at Lafayette Grand Café and Bakery (a spot I'd heard offered one of, if not the best brunch in the city). We agreed our selection of lemon pancakes with fresh berries along with banana Foster French toast (with vanilla ice cream! rum caramel! almonds!) were, for lack of a less morbid expression, to die for. The restaurant was filled to the brim with other Sunday brunchers -French music and lively conversation filled the space between us, and I was so deeply happy to share this morning with friends from home, in my new one. Elise and I said our goodbyes to Emma and Bea who had plans to go uptown, and off to the subway we went. 

That weekend, the heat in New York had hit an all-time peak. The previous day, the scorching Summer sun had blazed onto us as we meandered Manhattan, and we agreed we couldn't stand the idea of doing that again the next day. With the air so thick with unbearable humidity, Elise had suggested we enjoy Sunday afternoon at the beach. I was thrilled at the idea -only upset I hadn't thought of it first. Thus, we swiftly shifted our plans to explore the city on foot for an afternoon at the shore.  

We escape the heatwave to find rolling waves on the coast, riding the subway to the very last stop and meeting the Atlantic for the rest of the day. Despite the admittedly crowded boardwalk and tawdry tourist traps, we found everything we needed at Coney Island: loud gulls, colorful amusement rides, coconuts sunscreen, golden rays, frozen lemonade and lungfuls of a salty breeze. There was something nostalgic about the pier, with its 1960s-looking storefronts and fast-food restaurants- like my parents could have walked that very same pier in their youth, with the same businesses standing right there. We delighted in dipping our toes into the cold waters, relieving us from the sweltering heat. 

We came home a little rosier and in praise of this gift of friendship: it is no small thing to carve out the time for communion together, but I am always stunned at how enlivening it is. 

Elise left the next day, and I earnestly plotted to find ways to stall her bus home to Montreal. Alas, my plans failed and back to a long-distance friendship we were. 

She's since moved to the West Coast, near her Josiah. We shared a lengthy conversation over the phone just this week- and how thankful I am for modern technology and the privilege it is to be able to commune with loved ones despite the miles between us. They don't compare to the possibility of an embrace and holding out a hand, but they are nonetheless a gift. And, of course, there's the sweet ability to reminisce our shared memories -like that of our weekend in New York. 

A weekend marked by deepened friendship, impossible heat, and an ivory dress. A weekend we'll one day tell those grandchildren about.