Reminiscence

One year ago to the minute I was an unmarried woman. I was in my mother's house, surrounded by family from near and far.
I was primped and preened, hair stiff and immobile, make-up weighing on my face and feeling strange in my own skin. The flowers had arrived and they were beautiful as all flowers are, sitting heavy, damp and dewy in their box upon the coffee table. The photographers were there and I was awkward and stiff in front of their lenses, I don’t enjoy being the centre of attention.
I put on my beautiful dress, pinned my gecko brooch to my hip as a reminder of my future, and the family dove brooch of diamonds to the fabric over my breast to remind me of my past.
The photographers hovered, trying to capture this transition from girl to woman but how can you take a photograph of the inside of someone’s head?
I slipped on my shoes, pretty, soft suede and aqua coloured, no heels for this chickadee. My shawl was placed around my shoulders, beads scratching gently at my skin, slipping down my bare back. My flowers were handed to me, surprisingly heavy, a dull weight in my arms. Beautiful but for what purpose? Flowers for a maiden, flowers to grip in fear and anxiety on that long walk? Or flowers just because it’s ‘what is done’?
We walk to the cars lent by friends and family and squeeze inside and begin the short drive to the garden where I am to be married. My heart beats fast, speeding up with every corner. We pull in to the long gravel driveway and it is so far I can see nothing at the end of it. By the manor house we stop and finally I can see people, all family and friends peering eagerly for the first glimpse of ‘the bride’. I don’t feel like a bride, I’m just me in a pretty dress with flowers. But there at the end of the short grass aisle scattered with rose petals is my beautiful boy, my Dylan. Cheeks wet with tears, eyes screwed up to slow the flow and face wreathed in smiles. Oh my gorgeous boy, why tears? But they come to me as well, in the instant that I see his face the tears are there unbidden.
My maid of honour goes ahead of me to the grass. I have my tall brother holding my arm on one side and my lovely mother holding the other and together we go down the aisle but I remember none of this. In this moment there is only Dylan and I, lost to the world. At the end of our little green walkway I pull away from my family and my maid of honour has taken my flowers. Dylan and I grip one another, first hands then tightly around the waist holding each other up, keeping one another afloat in our little world. The tears continue, tears and laughter.
The celebrant speaks words unheard, they are for our guests not us. We know what we feel for one another, we’re not even listening to some other’s interpretation of heart and soul. For he has my heart and has done since the day we met. I gave it to him in good faith that he’ll look after it for me. He took my heart and my trust and put them somewhere safe and in return he gave me his own.
We kiss and kiss hard, lips pressed together, damp cheek to damp cheek, nose to nose, tongue to tongue fleetingly. The sound of cheers and laughter breaks the spell. Girl and boy no longer, man and woman now, husband and wife but mostly we’re just Dylan and Katie he and I in our own bubble of two souls joined into one.And so the day continues, photos and yet more photos. There is food and wine, speeches and a cake covered in roses. There is family I saw the day before and family I haven’t seen in years, there are one or two people I didn’t meet until this day, there are friends who will always be friends and friends we may not know forever but they are all there in celebration of love, companionship and good food just this one day of the year. Life goes on but from time to time I look up and see those beautiful blue eyes and a face wreathed in smiles and I know he has my heart in his pocket and will keep it safe for me.