Let me raise a question. Do you believe in marriage? 

As a child from a divorced couple, my answer is no. 

Growing up, I have been having a mixed feeling toward marriage — its concept, its institution, and its obligation in general. It was not something I would readily subscribe to. Vending to love someone for the rest of my life seemed absurd. I can’t even keep my diary for more than three days. 

So I have been very skeptical about the idea of tying a knot. It seemed to be a scam to bind people to social obligation. But the reason why I can’t entirely turn my back on it is because of a wedding I have attended. 

It was the summer of 2011. One of my friends from New York invited me to her wedding.

She was from Germany, and her wedding ceremony would take place on an island called Sylt. I was excited to travel to celebrate her important day in a country I had never been to before. 

I arrived on the island the day before the wedding. It was located in the northernmost part of Germany, where I found myself probably the only Asian on the entire island — The closest ethnicity I could reckon there was a Turkish guy in a fish sandwich shop. Kids were looking at me as if I were a rare animal in a zoo. I felt a bit misplaced, but at the same time, I felt quite amused as it proved how far away from home I had come. 

I walked around the beach near my accommodation. It didn’t look like any other beaches I had visited before. The colour of the ocean was not exactly blue — teal, sapphire or cerulean? It was a shade of azure which I didn’t quite know its name of. 

Feeling the fineness of the sand on my bare feet, I thought about life in general. Back then I was 29 years old and single. A lot of my friends in Japan were getting married, or they were trying to get married. I wondered what it would be like to settle down with someone. It felt daunting to build a life around the assumption of trusting someone to love me until death parts us. Yet, I found myself wishing to have someone I could sit down with on one of those blue-and-white beach chairs with canopies. I saw some families with young kids and some seemingly retired old couples on the beach. Even though the beach was so beautiful, I suddenly felt somewhat sad being there alone. 

I walked back and went to a local seaside restaurant with other wedding guests who were staying at the same lodge. We had exceptionally good fish soup and riesling. It soothed my anxiety. 

“This trip is not about me”, I thought to myself. “I am here to celebrate my friend, and I should not be making this about my complexity towards marriage”.

The next morning was a beautiful summer day. The ceremony took place at one of the oldest churches on the island. Of course I couldn’t understand a single word of the sermon in German, but it made me feel humbled to be there. 

My friend in her wedding dress looked absolutely beautiful and happy. 

“Would you like to marry someone, Chiyo?”

Suddenly I remembered the conversation we had in a cafe in New York several months ago. She was talking about how she has been proposed.

It was a difficult question to answer. I wished I could say “Yes!” without hesitation, but I couldn’t help to have a reservation. 

“Yeah… someday, maybe.”

That was all I could say, but it was not exactly what I was really feeling. 

As I saw her proceeding to the altar, I realized the real meaning of her question. 

It was not about wanting to get married or not. It was about how I wanted to build my life. 

Of course, she knew marriage in general would not be easy. Of course, she knew the fact that one-third of the marriage would end up in divorce. And yet she chose to take up that challenge because she believed that she and her fiancee could work it out together. 

In the old church which is said to have been built in the 13th Century, I understood that the marriage I want is not something defined by society or tradition. I want to redefine and create our own marriage with someone as equally sceptical yet optimistic as myself.

“No, I don’t want to marry anyone.” 

I talked to myself among the people who hold different religions, ideologies and cultures. 

“… but I would love to meet someone who convinces me otherwise.” 

And that answer felt about right. 

“Toi, toi, toi!” 

As we went outside the church, someone among the crowd said it towards the newlyweds. 

“That means ‘good luck’, right?” I asked her. 

“Yeah, you speak German?” She seemed to be surprised.

“No, but I just remembered that phrase from the book I read when I was a kid, ‘A Flying Classroom’.”

“Oh, you did? Yeah, it is a wish for someone to things go well.”

“I like that phrase, ’toi, toi, toi!’”

I smiled and threw some flower petals at the most courageous and beautiful people I have ever known.