Held Between Moments

Example blog post 5/5 (Fictional - the photo used is a stock photo and not mine)

The ceremony began without a signal. No music cue, no collective pause — just a gradual quiet as people noticed something was happening and chose to attend to it.

Hands were found and held. That was enough.

Before the ceremony

There was no separation of spaces that morning. Coats lay across sofas, cups were half-finished and forgotten, conversations drifted freely from room to room. The couple moved through it all together, unguarded and at ease.

Nothing was styled for effect. What mattered already existed.

The exchange

The ceremony took place indoors, near a tall window fogged slightly by the cold outside. Light filtered in gently, flattening shadows and softening expressions.

Vows were spoken quietly, almost conversationally. No one strained to hear — those who needed the words were close enough.

“We choose this,” one of them said simply,
hands tightening almost imperceptibly.

Between moments

Afterward, there was no immediate transition. People lingered where they stood. A few hugs happened. Someone laughed softly, then stopped, as if unwilling to break the calm.

These pauses were not empty. They carried weight.

Gathering

Food arrived when it arrived. Plates were passed hand to hand. People ate slowly, talking in low tones, leaning in rather than projecting.

Music played eventually, but it stayed in the background — an accompaniment rather than a direction.

Leaving

As evening settled, guests departed gradually. There was no final gesture, no closing scene. Just coats being pulled on, hands squeezed one last time, promises made quietly to meet again soon.

This was a wedding shaped by attention rather than display.

A reminder that the most enduring images are often the simplest — two hands, held steadily, while the world carries on around them.