"I know you," a voice called out behind me in the wool shop, "I read your blog." I was pregnant with Georgia and sick as a dog. Ellis was systematically detroying every ball of wool he could get his hands on and crying that he was hungry.
And so began our friendship.
The first day we sat down for coffee, I knew B and I would be friends for a very long time. It was actually a terrible day - I was sick with hyperemisis and it was supposed to have been her wedding day. No matter, we sat in my tiny livingroom and drank tea and chatted and kept each other company to pass the time on that dreadful afternoon. That day, she told me about a friend she wanted to be more.
Three years later, I was honored to photograph their wedding.
When you are an expat, your friends become your family. And like family, J and B have been there for so many of our life events. Georgia was the first baby that J had ever held. They came over for dinner when I was in labour with Theo. Grumpy Theo slept for an entire party in B's arms.
Looking back at the photos, I am glad so many are in focus, as my eyes were blurred with tears for so much of the ceremony. I get it now, why people cry at weddings. New love is such an amazing thing, it fills a room with its all-consuming nature and enthusiasm. (And I am not just talking about Georgia's love of J. It was repeatedly mentioned by Miss Georgia that B was not marrying J, Georgia was.)