The refrigerator poetry in Kasey and Christina's apartment was eerily truthful: coming home to Chicago for Matthew and Alethea's wedding felt like a cult of a peaceful welcome, a thousand points of light. I'd forgotten what it felt like to really fit in a place. I like Juneau, don't get me wrong, but even a square peg can learn to be comfortable in a reasonably sized round hole, eventually forgetting its angles and awkward geometry in contrast to its surroundings. Being around all my best friends again for a few days, where we could chat about theology, have a few debates about ridiculous topics that normal 23-year-olds don't usually debate, and generally joke around in the way that's possible only with people who are family in all but blood--well, I was in a square hole again, which made going back to circular Juneau pretty painful.
The weekend was a nonstop celebration--of Matthew and Alethea, of friendship, of the Church, of love of all kinds. It was a blast. I took too many photos to post, and definitely too many to post them individually, so click on the collage below for some of my favorites.