Wedding Day
She stood at the back of the old, wooden chapel, shivering from the cool breeze that snaked through the loose front doors. The day had dawned bright and a little too cold for her tastes, yet nothing problematic. And it didn't matter of course--she was anxious to be done with the day. To get everything over. To finally be married instead of getting married someday. And, she was ready. She had been ready for a long time. The music filtered through the double doors that separated the narthex from the nave. She imagined the faces of her friends and family--sitting quietly in the oak pews--and smiled. It was going to be a good day. No, make that a great one.
To her left, stood her dad. He cut a fine figure in his gray tuxedo and freesia boutonniere. His right leg tapped a staccato beat and his fingers drummed against each other as he accessed her, indicating he was nervous. Why? She thought. He had no reason to be nervous. Not this time. She looked into his eyes, where she thought she might have seen a tear form in the corner, but she couldn't be sure. You could never be sure with him.
The music changed; it was her cue to be ready. She pivoted on her nude heels toward her dad, at the same time as he turned toward her. She looped a light arm through his and looked down at their entwined limbs. His was a steady, albeit elderly, arm. One that had stumbled as it tried to usher her through the rough times of adolescence and into the joys and perils of adulthood. It was an arm that stayed still all those times she needed it around her shoulders. It now held tight to her, as if she was supporting him and not the other way round. She met her dad's gaze, and he leaned over, as if to kiss her cool cheek.
"When are you going to get that freezer?" he whispered into her ear.
Her neck recoiled and her eyes widened. Had she heard him correctly? They were standing at the back of the church on her wedding day, of all days, and he was worried about the upright freezer in their basement that he'd been trying to pawn off on her for years? Just last week she'd said that she'd take it, but she didn't mean today. Why today?
"Because it's ready. You just have to unplug it and make sure that you can get the right vehicle to keep it upright. You know...it can't go on its back..."
"Uh..." she was speechless, a feeling she'd never experienced before. Many thoughts tumbled through her head as her dad waited for her response. But she couldn't give him one. Not today. This was her day, not his.
"I'll get it, Dad. I'll get it soon," she said.
"Well okay then. Let's go." Her dad patted her arm with a withered hand and nodded his head. He was ready.
So they were off. With her right foot, she took a step forward as the double doors swung inward. The gathering of friends and family stood, and she focused on the man standing at the apse, hands clasped in front of him. A smile danced across his face and stars shone from his eyes. With tears in her own eyes, and beautiful butterflies in her stomach, she made her way down the aisle.
It's not all about you, Dad, she thought as she caught the eyes of her husband-to-be. It's about us. On this day that was theirs, it should be all about us. It's a pity that it wasn't.
To her left, stood her dad. He cut a fine figure in his gray tuxedo and freesia boutonniere. His right leg tapped a staccato beat and his fingers drummed against each other as he accessed her, indicating he was nervous. Why? She thought. He had no reason to be nervous. Not this time. She looked into his eyes, where she thought she might have seen a tear form in the corner, but she couldn't be sure. You could never be sure with him.
The music changed; it was her cue to be ready. She pivoted on her nude heels toward her dad, at the same time as he turned toward her. She looped a light arm through his and looked down at their entwined limbs. His was a steady, albeit elderly, arm. One that had stumbled as it tried to usher her through the rough times of adolescence and into the joys and perils of adulthood. It was an arm that stayed still all those times she needed it around her shoulders. It now held tight to her, as if she was supporting him and not the other way round. She met her dad's gaze, and he leaned over, as if to kiss her cool cheek.
"When are you going to get that freezer?" he whispered into her ear.
Her neck recoiled and her eyes widened. Had she heard him correctly? They were standing at the back of the church on her wedding day, of all days, and he was worried about the upright freezer in their basement that he'd been trying to pawn off on her for years? Just last week she'd said that she'd take it, but she didn't mean today. Why today?
"Because it's ready. You just have to unplug it and make sure that you can get the right vehicle to keep it upright. You know...it can't go on its back..."
"Uh..." she was speechless, a feeling she'd never experienced before. Many thoughts tumbled through her head as her dad waited for her response. But she couldn't give him one. Not today. This was her day, not his.
"I'll get it, Dad. I'll get it soon," she said.
"Well okay then. Let's go." Her dad patted her arm with a withered hand and nodded his head. He was ready.
So they were off. With her right foot, she took a step forward as the double doors swung inward. The gathering of friends and family stood, and she focused on the man standing at the apse, hands clasped in front of him. A smile danced across his face and stars shone from his eyes. With tears in her own eyes, and beautiful butterflies in her stomach, she made her way down the aisle.
It's not all about you, Dad, she thought as she caught the eyes of her husband-to-be. It's about us. On this day that was theirs, it should be all about us. It's a pity that it wasn't.
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