The weather has shifted, the flowers have faded, and the gold glitter fingernail polish has been removed. The houseguest has left and things around here are getting back in order.

Like a good piece of fiction, the stories of our lives have a certain form. In a novel, the plot gains momentum until it reaches the crux, the high point. After that comes the denouement, when all the plot strands are pulled together and loose ends are explained or resolved. How delightful when finishing a book to be able to say, “that was a great book.”

Indulge me with another metaphor: like water, life moves in waves that are mostly akin to normal tides, coming and going the same regular way we move along our everyday baseline routines. Some of our life-waves are gigantic and crash hard, such as when an unexpected phone call brings devastating news. Then there are those that rise like a surfer’s dream, higher and higher to be ridden with joy and pleasure, such as long-awaited journeys, graduations, and other happy events.

In recent months, the main focus in our family was upon building the story and riding the rising waves of anticipation for the wedding festivities of my only child. Bottom line: it was as close to perfect as can be imagined or hoped for. The weather, the flowers, and the fingernail polish played their roles, along with the heirloom dress and veil, the handsome custom suit for the groom, and the decked-out wedding party. The ceremony was filled with wonderful music and unusual nice touches. Pastor Tony spoke meaningful personal messages to the gathering, which was seated on clear chairs on the surface of an inlaid wooden labyrinth. Via Livestream, friends all over the USA and also in England, Australia, New Zealand, and Namibia were able to “be” there. The reception was fabulous, too, right through to the bubble send-off outside Central Station Hotel in downtown Memphis.

Gosh, it was fun. The months of planning, the final week of last-minute moments (none, believe it or not, frazzled or frustrated), the wedding and reception. It was the stuff of dreams.

Now comes that “afterward” part, the gathering of the loose strands of the plot, the calming of the water under the settling wave. This, too, is part of the journey. If the anticipation and planning and preparation for life’s big events add the spice, the denouement is where the memories become savory.

I’m reminded of a gold-medalist Olympian I met a couple of years after his international moment. Last to go in the jumping part of his competition in Sydney in 2000, he unnerved his fans when he appeared to lose his way for a moment among the giant obstacles. But he regrouped and went on to win. When I met him, he was back to everyday life, unloading bales of hay off a truck, a regular guy. As the saying goes, “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”

I am back to chopping my own wood and carrying my own water today, but my life has been burnished with the joyous memories of my daughter’s wedding to her prince. After so many months of planning, the “afterwards” is taking a little getting used to, but I don’t mind. It is time to proclaim, “that was a grand occasion!”