Three Weddings and a Nest

My wife and I have been guests at three wonderful weddings in the past three months. Each one was a generous and lavish affair, festive and joyous, full of pride and hope and love. We were delighted to witness these three young couples as they were launched into a world drenched in sunlight, with nary a cloud in sight. And yes, while I understand that life is full of snares and surprises—some good, some bad—let’s just hope and pray that the separate roads of these three newly married couples will run straight and true into a bright and happy future.

On the weekend of the most recent wedding, my wife and I wanted to be close to the venue, so we rented a lovely home on the Magothy River. While we were there, I spent several quiet hours observing a pair of ospreys that had built their nest on a platform several yards from shore. The female was almost always sitting on the nest, presumably incubating a small clutch of eggs; her mate roamed the sky, fishing or just keeping a watchful eye on his new human neighbors. In the evening, as the light of day faded, he would return to the nest, once with a freshly caught fish, and settle in for the night next to his mate, ever vigilant.

Now I’m not so anthropomorphic as to believe that ospreys are like newlyweds intent on creating a new family, but they do mate for life and instinctively tend to each other’s needs in ways that would put many of us to shame. I realize that devotion is an inherently human concept, but its shadow instinct is surely present in nature, too. One generation making a home and tending to its offspring, season after season, ensuring the survival of the species. Is that so different from wanting our own children to grow and prosper with a partner they love? Isn’t that why we celebrate weddings, sharing them with friends, even making them a holy sacrament? Maybe we don’t always live up to the promise of “happily ever after,” but we continue to believe in it and cherish it in our hearts. I know this because I just witnessed it three times over.

At each of these three weddings, I listened carefully to the words of the officiant, to the vows of each of the brides and grooms, even to the toasts offered by parents and friends. They were always articulate and optimistic, often quite funny, and they almost always painted a picture of a meaningful past and a rosy future. The skeptic may not believe in the fairy tale of making a happy and fulfilled life with someone you love, but I still do, and witnessing these three weddings has only deepened that belief. With all the noise that’s out there these days, it would be so easy to become cynical about human nature, or to succumb to all the passion and pain that pounds us every day.

But these three weddings have offered me an opportunity to see the world differently, to be steeped in its hopes and joys instead of its hate and violence. So, too, has that osprey’s nest. Nature can be just as cruel as human beings, but I swear there was a peace and tenderness in that mess of sticks and feathers that spoke to me of an alternative way of experiencing the world. Before I went upstairs to bed on our last night, I whispered, “I do.”

I’ll be right back.

Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer who lives in Chestertown. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy Magazine.

His new novel, “The Tales of Bismuth; Dispatches from Palestine, 1945-1948” explores the origins of the Arab-Israeli conflict. It is available on Amazon.