By Jean H. Stewart
After all there is something about a wedding-gown prettier than in any other gown in the world.
~Douglas William Jerrold
She seemed to grow taller and more regal as she stood before the three-way mirror.
"That's the one," her twin sister whispered, barely able to breathe.
I nodded as my daughter turned around and slowly smiled. It definitely was THE dress. We found the perfect veil and shoes and left the bridal shop feeling somewhat giddy.
After all there is something about a wedding-gown prettier than in any other gown in the world.
~Douglas William Jerrold
She seemed to grow taller and more regal as she stood before the three-way mirror.
"That's the one," her twin sister whispered, barely able to breathe.
I nodded as my daughter turned around and slowly smiled. It definitely was THE dress. We found the perfect veil and shoes and left the bridal shop feeling somewhat giddy.
"Okay, what's next?" I asked.
"A dress for you, Mom," was the reply.
We were in the midst of a whirlwind of activity. The bridesmaids' dresses were chosen, so now came decisions about floral bouquets and arrangements, wedding cake, photographer, and music. I hand-addressed the invitations and the reply cards were flooding in.
Then, since I had put it off as long as I could, I began the search for my dress and managed to find a pale pink one that my daughter approved. Her father purchased a new tuxedo. He joked that he felt like a walking ATM machine, only there to write checks or sign credit slips. It was mayhem, yet we were somehow enjoying that special time.
A few weeks before the May wedding, we rushed in from grocery shopping and the bride's sister greeted us with, "Dad, Mom, can we talk to you?"
I glanced at her holding hands with her boyfriend and suddenly knew what they wanted. A half-gallon of milk slipped from my hand, spilled across the wood floors and spread everywhere, even under the refrigerator.
"Oh, no!" I wailed. "I can't believe this."
"Don't worry, Mom, we'll help you," my daughter said as she rushed to grab the carton to stop the rest of the milk from escaping.
We all grabbed paper towels, crawled on our hands and knees, and spent the next hour together cleaning up the mess. Then we sat, the four of us, staring at one another.
He squirmed and fidgeted and finally sputtered out his love and devotion for our daughter.
"We'd like to get married in December," he said, "with your permission."
"Which December?" I asked in disbelief.
"This one," she finally spoke.
"That's only seven months away," I moaned.
Her father and I stole frantic glances at one another. He then queried and pried as he did a year earlier with her sister and her suitor. Finally he smiled and we gave our blessing. They knew we would.
As I sat there watching them, I felt my life spiraling out of control. Panic spread over me like the milk that had earlier spilled across the kitchen floor. I could do nothing to stop it. Two weddings? The thought of another wedding that year was overwhelming. I felt as if I were on a carousel that would never stop.
"Oh, Mom, this is so exciting!" The girls were thrilled that they would stand together at the altar a second time that year in reverse roles.
I couldn't tell them I was considering a nervous breakdown but didn't have time for one. Meanwhile, their father was wondering about bankruptcy.
Sleep was elusive. My dreams were filled with wedding disasters or mixing up the grooms. I'd wake exhausted only to see a white illusion floating before me. Then I'd realize it was the white satin dress on its padded hanger suspended from a ceiling anchor in the corner of our bedroom. The vision of the long sweep of its pearl-studded, lace-embroidered train evoked all kinds of emotions -- joy, happiness, worry, nostalgia, and, at times, sheer panic. Especially as I contemplated a second wedding to come.
The days and weeks flew by in a blur of activity and a long white limousine was in front of our house to whisk the bride and maid of honor off to the church before I could catch my breath.
The wedding was perfect, beautiful and sweet, and everything she had dreamed it would be. The next morning I woke to the vision of yet another dress hanging from the corner. Smooth, creamy, pearl-trimmed silk reminded me that I was still on the wedding carousel.
As I pondered the beauty of the dress and what it represented, I came to realize that we go along the road of life and then, every once in awhile, stop and whirl around in the busyness of the place until it's time to step off and continue on down the road.
We took a double ride that year and found the experiences there tender and sweet, funny and poignant, times that will stay in our memories forever.
Life is change. And filled with carousels. I always try to enjoy the ride.
We were in the midst of a whirlwind of activity. The bridesmaids' dresses were chosen, so now came decisions about floral bouquets and arrangements, wedding cake, photographer, and music. I hand-addressed the invitations and the reply cards were flooding in.
Then, since I had put it off as long as I could, I began the search for my dress and managed to find a pale pink one that my daughter approved. Her father purchased a new tuxedo. He joked that he felt like a walking ATM machine, only there to write checks or sign credit slips. It was mayhem, yet we were somehow enjoying that special time.
A few weeks before the May wedding, we rushed in from grocery shopping and the bride's sister greeted us with, "Dad, Mom, can we talk to you?"
I glanced at her holding hands with her boyfriend and suddenly knew what they wanted. A half-gallon of milk slipped from my hand, spilled across the wood floors and spread everywhere, even under the refrigerator.
"Oh, no!" I wailed. "I can't believe this."
"Don't worry, Mom, we'll help you," my daughter said as she rushed to grab the carton to stop the rest of the milk from escaping.
We all grabbed paper towels, crawled on our hands and knees, and spent the next hour together cleaning up the mess. Then we sat, the four of us, staring at one another.
He squirmed and fidgeted and finally sputtered out his love and devotion for our daughter.
"We'd like to get married in December," he said, "with your permission."
"Which December?" I asked in disbelief.
"This one," she finally spoke.
"That's only seven months away," I moaned.
Her father and I stole frantic glances at one another. He then queried and pried as he did a year earlier with her sister and her suitor. Finally he smiled and we gave our blessing. They knew we would.
As I sat there watching them, I felt my life spiraling out of control. Panic spread over me like the milk that had earlier spilled across the kitchen floor. I could do nothing to stop it. Two weddings? The thought of another wedding that year was overwhelming. I felt as if I were on a carousel that would never stop.
"Oh, Mom, this is so exciting!" The girls were thrilled that they would stand together at the altar a second time that year in reverse roles.
I couldn't tell them I was considering a nervous breakdown but didn't have time for one. Meanwhile, their father was wondering about bankruptcy.
Sleep was elusive. My dreams were filled with wedding disasters or mixing up the grooms. I'd wake exhausted only to see a white illusion floating before me. Then I'd realize it was the white satin dress on its padded hanger suspended from a ceiling anchor in the corner of our bedroom. The vision of the long sweep of its pearl-studded, lace-embroidered train evoked all kinds of emotions -- joy, happiness, worry, nostalgia, and, at times, sheer panic. Especially as I contemplated a second wedding to come.
The days and weeks flew by in a blur of activity and a long white limousine was in front of our house to whisk the bride and maid of honor off to the church before I could catch my breath.
The wedding was perfect, beautiful and sweet, and everything she had dreamed it would be. The next morning I woke to the vision of yet another dress hanging from the corner. Smooth, creamy, pearl-trimmed silk reminded me that I was still on the wedding carousel.
As I pondered the beauty of the dress and what it represented, I came to realize that we go along the road of life and then, every once in awhile, stop and whirl around in the busyness of the place until it's time to step off and continue on down the road.
We took a double ride that year and found the experiences there tender and sweet, funny and poignant, times that will stay in our memories forever.
Life is change. And filled with carousels. I always try to enjoy the ride.
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