A Writer's Wedding
Wedding bells. A thousand doves. Pink rose petals scattered on the tiled floor while the red ones are falling over head, like scarlet hearts raining the world with love. I would be standing outside with my father, as ready to walk down the aisle as the day I met this man and decided he would be the one to get on his knees and say those sweet words to me in front of an audience of many.
Which would it be?
“Will you marry me?”
“Will you be my wife?”
“Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Would you be willing to spend the rest of your life with me?”
Either way, I’ll still say yes, but not right away. Everyone will be holding their breaths because my eyes are tearing up and I would be too shocked for words with my heart pounding so rapidly. Oh happiness and fairytales-come-true, how sneaky you are to surprise a jaded girl such as myself with your unexpected arrival. When I regain my senses, I would still be unable to speak, not out of shock, but out of fear that these lips would utter something other than “yes.” So instead, I would nod vigorously until he wraps his arms around me and picks me up to spin me round and round out of the joy that filled both his heart and mine.
Then we would kiss. A kiss sweeter than others that we’ve had and could only be bested by the first kiss we will have as husband and wife.
Two months we would be as fiancés before I am standing in the dressing room with my gown, crying my eyes out about the missing bouquet of roses, the runaway doves, the dried out flower petals and some missing guests. The wedding will not be cancelled! He would shout when he bursts into the room. We have too much ahead of us to throw it all away on account of some crazy birds and dead flowers. So from behind his back, he would hold out the bouquet of wild flowers, as wild and beautiful as they had been when we first met.
My eyes would tear up and I would remember. It’s not about the wedding. It’s about us. Our love. Our life together: past, present, and future. Then I would kiss him again and he will return the kiss before leaving to return to his room.
And so there I would be standing at the door. With my hand at the crook of my father’s elbow, I begin walking towards him, my fiancé and future husband. Pachelbel Canon begins to play. I could almost hear the flutter of wings and feel the velvet of petals drifting past my cheeks, and then they wouldn’t be there at all.
I could see him and only him.
When I reach him, I would smile underneath my veil and slip my hand into his as the priest begins to talk. The vows and sermons would past by like sand through an hourglass until the father asks him what I want to hear most.
“Will you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife and love her, honor, comfort and keep her in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others for as long as you live?”
And then will follow the loveliest “I will” I will have ever heard.
When it is my turn, I will not hear a single word he says. I will be too concentrated on keeping myself from shouting, from the bottom of my heart, the promise that I plan to keep for the rest of my life. But when he would finish, the two words would leave my lips as though I have been born for this day.
And he would smile the sweetest smile as he slips the ring onto my finger and when I put the ring on his finger, tiny fluttering wings would find their way to these wild petals. Wings as white and lovely as the feathers of any doves, seeking the sweet nectar of the wild flowers, these butterflies have found their way to our wedding and to me, they were better than any miracle a thousand doves could bring.
Everyone would laugh and cheer on our behalf when the priest tells us to kiss. He would lean forward as if whispering a wicked secret to say the word loud and clear before our lips would touch in a single kiss and our lives begin.
Forever.
Which would it be?
“Will you marry me?”
“Will you be my wife?”
“Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Would you be willing to spend the rest of your life with me?”
Either way, I’ll still say yes, but not right away. Everyone will be holding their breaths because my eyes are tearing up and I would be too shocked for words with my heart pounding so rapidly. Oh happiness and fairytales-come-true, how sneaky you are to surprise a jaded girl such as myself with your unexpected arrival. When I regain my senses, I would still be unable to speak, not out of shock, but out of fear that these lips would utter something other than “yes.” So instead, I would nod vigorously until he wraps his arms around me and picks me up to spin me round and round out of the joy that filled both his heart and mine.
Then we would kiss. A kiss sweeter than others that we’ve had and could only be bested by the first kiss we will have as husband and wife.
Two months we would be as fiancés before I am standing in the dressing room with my gown, crying my eyes out about the missing bouquet of roses, the runaway doves, the dried out flower petals and some missing guests. The wedding will not be cancelled! He would shout when he bursts into the room. We have too much ahead of us to throw it all away on account of some crazy birds and dead flowers. So from behind his back, he would hold out the bouquet of wild flowers, as wild and beautiful as they had been when we first met.
My eyes would tear up and I would remember. It’s not about the wedding. It’s about us. Our love. Our life together: past, present, and future. Then I would kiss him again and he will return the kiss before leaving to return to his room.
And so there I would be standing at the door. With my hand at the crook of my father’s elbow, I begin walking towards him, my fiancé and future husband. Pachelbel Canon begins to play. I could almost hear the flutter of wings and feel the velvet of petals drifting past my cheeks, and then they wouldn’t be there at all.
I could see him and only him.
When I reach him, I would smile underneath my veil and slip my hand into his as the priest begins to talk. The vows and sermons would past by like sand through an hourglass until the father asks him what I want to hear most.
“Will you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife and love her, honor, comfort and keep her in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others for as long as you live?”
And then will follow the loveliest “I will” I will have ever heard.
When it is my turn, I will not hear a single word he says. I will be too concentrated on keeping myself from shouting, from the bottom of my heart, the promise that I plan to keep for the rest of my life. But when he would finish, the two words would leave my lips as though I have been born for this day.
And he would smile the sweetest smile as he slips the ring onto my finger and when I put the ring on his finger, tiny fluttering wings would find their way to these wild petals. Wings as white and lovely as the feathers of any doves, seeking the sweet nectar of the wild flowers, these butterflies have found their way to our wedding and to me, they were better than any miracle a thousand doves could bring.
Everyone would laugh and cheer on our behalf when the priest tells us to kiss. He would lean forward as if whispering a wicked secret to say the word loud and clear before our lips would touch in a single kiss and our lives begin.
Forever.