Denouement is a fine word to describe the day after a French wedding, I’m thinking. More literally, it’s the final part of a story, the point when all the plot points come together and we can close the book.

That said, I’m not really sure there is such a thing as a “day after” a French wedding, at least not the one in which Melinda & I have been enjoying since Friday. If yesterday’s reception didn’t ever end (word this morning is that Frédérique, Romain’s mom, was still dancing at 6am), and today’s brunch and pool party began at 11am, maybe there is no denouement.

Besides, a wedding is the BEGINNING of a story, not the END.

Melinda & I managed to keep dancing until 3am, at which point we (read: Melinda) drove the 15 minutes to the incredible spot at which we’re staying (well done, Melinda). We slept in until almost 10, before heading back to the venue for today’s brunch, the same spot used for Friday’s white party and yesterday’s reception.

We enjoyed a catered brunch, cooled our feet in the pool, and made a final connection with a number of French friends that have become as important to us as family.

After that, we drove to Avignon, about an hour away, where Melinda spent a semester in college in 1984. We hunted for the home at which she stayed with uncertain success before entering the walled city and enjoying a festival taking place. These two photos of us come from when we stopped to cool off with a glass and a small meal.

Hmmm… considering we head to Nantes tomorrow to reconnect with Christine and Bérnard, denouement is the wrong word for what we’re feeling, for sure.