Henceforth, we shall ignore the fact that I have been melancholy for the past week. We shall omit the fact that my whole family has been down in the dumps with sadness for what feels like a funeral ambiance. Our precious Mayelli has left us. No one will mention my mother's last-minute tantrum attack moments before the ceremony began. Or how the photographer was barred from the dressing room, where she had hoped to capture those last heartfelt moments. Needless to say, if we had allowed her entrance into the small room, the pictures taken would definitely have been heartfelt. Because my mother was angry and frustrated for "heartfelt" reasons not worth mentioning.
My guess is that the ONLY thing worth mentioning would be my sister's calmness throughout her last minutes of "singlehood" and her complete oblivion to the chaos around her. Don't get me wrong, my sister has a history for smiling in the most innapropriate moments and laughing after seeing me in a fit of rage. That is her way of being Mayelli, of "lightening up the mood".
In that particular moment, she simply did what she could do best: look absolutely charming and gloriously pretty, feathers, sparkles, birdcage veil, bouncy curls, and all. It was only her and her thoughts of the nervous guy wiggling uncontrollably on the opposite side of the altar. The guy who forgot how to stand, how to smile, how to think straight at that point in their time. He was the perfect example of what a guy should feel as he stands at the front of the altar in desperation to see his beloved.
SO, back to the bouquet...
The moment we had all been waiting for. The moment that predicts our future as single women. Or so French tradition goes.The lucky one to catch the bundle of flowers will indeed marry next. Ha. That is precisely why I did NOT want to stand up and participate. All eyes watching. Gawkers gawking. There I am standing to the side, hoping not to be noticed, while some other girl catches the bouquet, when the bouquet hits me on the shoulder. And I grab it. Before my sister's gorgeous bouquet shatters on the floor.
Call it destiny or just bad luck. Or perhaps nothing at all.
All in all, I enjoyed my sister's wedding. I adored the colors and the theme, which seemed unclear when she was presenting it to me.
And I was able to contemplate talent. Our talent. The talent of my mother. The talent of friends (thanks Kiara and Jenny!). Talent that I hope very soon to share with the world. Perhaps a wedding coordinating business. Or a top class flower shop. Why not a European bakery? Or wedding catering? Alright, alright, I guess I'm still in the wedding mode, where all I think about are flowers and last-minute decorating. But I found out we are good. Oh man, are we good!
Mayelli, you have my utmost gratitude. You are a top-class sister, daughter, and friend. Thanks for not slapping me across the face when I deserved it. Thanks for taking the role of bread provider. Thank you for not running away from it all. Above all, thank you for your sunshine! I love you, sis!
Did you get emotional when you wrote this? ;P I was there and I can only agree to everything. (I hope we can open up our own small business too!... maybe a coffee shop...)
ReplyDeleteStill in the wedding mode I see.
ReplyDeleteSo is another blogger I know. ;)
And you are right of course the wedding was bee-utiful. ;)