I wasn’t supposed to be in New York right now. A couple of days ago was my original intended wedding day, which has now been deferred to May 2021. “Happy wedding day,” I said to my still-fiancé, when we rolled out of bed to start another normal day at work.
“Happy wedding day,” he said, yawning as he poured some boiling water into his coffee pot and started measuring out some chia seeds for a smoothie (yes, he is that guy).
Then, of course, we sat down, logged into our digital workspaces, and carried on. The next morning, my phone pinged to remind me to catch our flight to our now-cancelled honeymoon. Guess it didn’t get the memo. It was strange to imagine that alternate universe in which I had just walked down the aisle, wearing the unaltered wedding dress I have rolled up and gathering dust in my friend’s closet, surrounded by our unmasked friends and family who would hug us, eat beside us and generally share germs with us without a care in the world. And to then get on a packed flight to southeast Asia? Perish the thought!
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