Friday, April 29, 2016

Old, New, Borrowed, Blue

Herself speaks.

The wedding in which I will be a member of the 'court' is approaching, I chat on occasion with the bride-to-be, and hear about how the plans are coming along. It's clear that she has a distinct vision as to how she wants everything to be for the wedding, and she has a flock of people who are helping her to make things come to fruition. Good for her. I hope it turns out as well as she imagines it. 

I have been thinking back to my own wedding, and as I try to conjure up the details from that nearly-a-quarter-of-a-century ago, certain small vignettes have surfaced. And not all of them are good. 

Here are some of the the not-so-good recollections. Perhaps, by writing them out, I can exorcise them from my memory.

* When I mentioned to a close relative that I was a little worried my dress wouldn't fit right on the day of the wedding, I was told, "So, you just won't be able to breathe." 

* When I went with that same relative to the shoe store in the mall to find low-heeled shoes for the ceremony, she stood apart, by the door, not looking at me or talking to me, and I stood alone looking at the shoes. Was she tired? Bored? Upset for some reason? I don't know, and I didn't ask at the time, because I did not want a 'scene'; I just chose quickly so that we could leave. 

* When I took the headpiece I'd selected - a wreath of cloth and lace flowers, which I loved - to my mother's hairdresser (since I lived elsewhere and did not have a hairdresser of my own for the event), the hairdresser exclaimed that it was all wrong and terrible, and I had to reiterate that it was what I was wearing, so could she please help? (She did, and I tried to forget about being self-conscious about the headpiece.) 

* The same hairdresser offered to do my mother's makeup that morning, resulting in us being late getting back from the salon, and my not having sufficient time to do my own makeup as slowly and carefully as I had wanted. (If we had left the wedding at 11:30 AM, as I'd wanted, it would have been fine; because of something about the venue of the reception and the timing of everything, though, my mother indicated the wedding would have to be at 10 AM. And so it was rescheduled accordingly.)

There are more. But those are enough. 

Perhaps I should have stood up for myself and my desires more, and perhaps there is no one to blame but myself for the parts that did not happen as I'd would ideally have wanted them to happen. (Or perhaps it was a lesson in compromise -- a valuable lesson for wedded life. Or perhaps it was simply a lesson to remind me that I could not control how other people behaved about the wedding.)  And anyway, do those details even really matter? In the grand scheme of things, the ultimate wish came true: I married my Beloved. Perhaps the small details should have been immaterial. 

There were good parts, too, I remind myself. I loved the dress. Beloved Husband and I had picked the readings we wanted from the offerings in the booklet from the Church. And we had the rings we'd chosen. I haven't ever taken my ring off. I like that. 

Let the rest go, I tell myself. And mostly, I can. 

Every now and then, though, I think that it would have been nice if a few more of the details had been as I had wished. 

Let it go, my heart.

 I still have my shoes.

And the headpiece, which I still love. 

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