It was for a wedding, in January. We spent the first night at my aunt and uncle's house, where my big sister got married summer before last.
As chance would have it, the bride (my brother-in-law's sister), was paired with her groom when she walked at my sister's wedding as a bridesmaid and he as a groomsman—back before they really knew each other. So to return, just before attending their own wedding, to the place where that other young couple had been married—quiet now in the evening light, nary a folding chair to be seen—flavored my memories some extra. The sweetness of chance in the stories we tell.
From the wedding the next day, which took place high up in the San Diego hills: