I've known Jennifer since she was child. We talk often. She called when she met Darren, when they got engaged and kept me informed of their wedding plans. It was 300 miles away, but I really wanted to go.
Getting there was no big deal; I'm used to driving hundreds of miles a day. My "outfit" was the problem: dress, shoes, hose, purse, hair, lipstick, nails, tan, perfume, jewelry? Lamentations of Biblical proportions and slump-shouldered sighs left me clueless.
Krysia searched her closet and found a never-worn silk dress: pale blue/grey background with muted fuchsia and pale rust flower petals with self-fabric ruffles at the neck and diagonally on the front; fully lined with pale blue silk.Gorgeous. Up to now its life had been limited to decorating her closet suffering the snubs of the sturdy blue jeans. Nanner. Nanner. "Here, try this on."
Well, I knew it wouldn't fit. To humor her I slid it over my head and gasped. No only did it fit, it felt delicious, light weight, French. Pearls and a dab of Chanel #5, and I was set.
The groom's father, David, passed away recently leaving a collection of watches his wife graciously shared with family and friends. Just before the brides attendants entered, the groom, groomsmen and the Pastor pointed to their "David" watch to acknowledge his spirit presence. Timing. It was all about timing.
Each bridal attendant floated in tanned and coiffed wearing an electric blue gown with spaghetti straps. Two pre-school girls with flowers in their hair and in their basket shyly made their way to the altar scattering a petal here and there. The little boy carried the rings like a pro.
Everyone in their place, Henry Purcell's "Trumpet Tune" exploded from the organ. We rose and turned for "the grand entrance." The doors opened to Jennifer on her father's arm. Both were beaming; the happiest day of her life, and the proudest of her parents. Her halter top gown was an exquisite work of art beaded to below the waist of her full skirt and train. She glowed.
Pastor blessed and sealed their commitment for life. Forever. Jennifer and Darren lit the unity candle to cement their lives as man and wife, a single unit. An impenetrable gold circle formed around them.
Bride and groom greeted guests as they left the pew. I congratulated them. She didn't recognize me. It's been fifteen years. When I told her who I was she gasped, shuddered, grabbed me in a bear hug and burst into tears. Me too.
The people behind me were miffed they didn't get such a greeting. Throughout the reception people asked what I said to make the bride cry? Just my name.
2008 Red Convertible Travel Series