One summer, several of us stayed at my friend Eva's house in Berkeley after our yearly stint as camp counselors was over. It was great fun—we stayed up late and took over the living room, and I was amazed by how it didn't seem to bother her mom at all. Still, there was constant social contact, and every once in a while, I needed a bit of a break.

One morning, my friend Polly and I decided to escape temporarily. We got bagels and coffee at Noah's, and then we headed over to the Berkeley Rose Garden. The day was simply perfect, and the roses were stunning. I wish I had brought my camera. Polly and I sat on a bench, sometimes talking and sometimes just sipping at our coffee and looking around. We soon noticed people walking around in tuxedos and dresses, and we realized that there was going to be a wedding.

We retreated to an unobtrusive spot (you can see where we were sitting here), but we didn't want to leave, and I'm glad we didn't. Everyone there looked happy, not tense and freaked out about music or flowers or whether there would be enough wine or whether the bridesmaids were secretly cursing the day their friend decided on lavender pastel dresses. Someone started playing a song, and the bride walked down to the middle of the garden. "Slow down!" her fiance mouthed at her, smiling. She laughed and slowed down; she really was walking a little too fast. They said their vows and kissed, and Polly and I decided that it was time for us to leave.

It was one of the loveliest weddings I've ever attended, and I don't even know who those people were.