Family Short Story – The Wedding
The Wedding - Family Short Story
A woman stood alone in a French white gazebo not too distant from her also French white church. Was she trying to see past the trees with arms gathered closely or just lost in thought? Her face is dressed in snow; her skin shimmered exposing a spectrum of colors. She had soft pale blonde hair topped with a transparent veil. Her attire composed of a white long sleeved mermaid dress with open toe heels. She rested herself upon the edge of the structure with one fist balled not too tightly and the other against her cheek. Her cerulean eyes submersed in the ocean of her agitation. She wondered, “In a world full of cosmocrats was one surely destined to rule my life?”
As she pondered these thoughts a scrawny short woman made her way to her. The woman expressed a few wrinkles above her slight grin she wore a purple trench coat with black heels. She made her way up the stairway the ‘clunk’ sound of her heels startled the other woman but she still remained in her same poise. She came up beside her and leaned on the edge too.
“Honey, what are you thinking about?” The woman asked.
The other woman took a deep sigh and began, “I’ve been thinking… what if Joseph isn’t the one for me?”
“Well dear, if he isn’t the one god wouldn’t have leaded you far up this path to acknowledge that.”
“Mom, I’m agnostic I don’t think about that.”
“More like an atheist…”
The daughter laughed under her breath. Her mother put a hand on her cheek.
“I could care less about who you worship, how many you worship, or whatever you worship, all I know is that this is a very big day for you sweetheart.”
Her daughter shrugged it off.
“I mean, do you love him?” The mother asked her.
The daughter had a pause and her mother watched her facial expression carefully for signs of her true ardency. When the mother realized her daughter’s true answer she smiled.
“If he doesn’t love you back sweetie you don’t need to spend the rest of your life antagonizing him.” The mother replied.
The daughter’s throat became arid; she swallowed her spit to assuage the temporary dryness. “Come on.” The mother entwined her arm around her daughter’s.
They both made their way down the steps towards the church. They proceeded into the corridors and stepped in the halls lined with velvet. A woman with a headset in a business suit handed the daughter a bouquet of flowers, and placed her in front of the doors leading to the core of the church. Two flower girls proceeded to opening the doors for the daughter who is obviously the bride. Both embellished in daisies grinned happily and opened the doors slowly. The view changed to an isle with rows of benches on each side and at the end the groom, the bride’s father, and the priest.
Her friend stood up from the row first, which then engendered a menagerie of people to stand up as well; an odd animation taken place where everyone in the room was as one. The groom was distracted then looked up and stared in awe at the bride’s impeccable beauty. It could be said that he looked upon her as if she were an enigma. Connecting his stare the bride obliterated the feelings of obligations and regrets. And in her heart was a feeling of nostalgia a longing for enduring her lover’s happiness once again.
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