I wore a simple white dress made in Mexico that I bought while living in Jerusalem. My father walked me down the aisle on the stony path of a lovely hotel garden. Awaiting me at the flower covered chuppah, was my beloved Isaac. We tightly held hands and listened intently as The Rabbi explained the meaning of the journey we were embarking on.
After Iche (Isaac’s Yiddish/Mexican nickname, pronounced ee-cheh) broke the glass, after our first kiss as husband and wife, and after the spontaneous cheers of Mazel Tov, as the sun set before us, we walked hand in hand to an upper garden, where the margaritas flowed freely, a mariachi band sounded its trumpets and then played our favorite romantic Mexican songs,
Inside the reception ballroom a different band played and we danced the hora for what seemed like hours, then as we got lifted up on chairs, amid smiles, tears, dancing and laughter as if in slow motion, acknowledging the wonder of it all, I gave thanks for my wonderful rich heritage.
This was my Mexican/Jewish wedding.