I've never been too materialistic. I've never had a need for a fashionable wardrobe, a sparkling box of jewelry, or the latest sleek designs in my home. In fact, I rather love the look of time worn quilts and quirky flea market finds and the ragged comfort of faded sweat pants. I choose plain black coffee over lattes and espressos, my mom's spaghetti instead of expensive Italian cuisine, and my favorite lumpy chair before a new Bellagio leather sofa.
That being said, there is one thing I do covet. It's childish, really. And foolish. But somewhere in my humble, second- hand, bargain loving heart, I yearn for the wedding I never had.
I know, I know. It's not the ceremony, it's the celebration. It's not the dress, the cake, the presents piled up in a mountain of silver and gold wrap. It's the person you vow to share your life with and nothing else is as important or as meaningful as that.
Don't get me wrong. We had the wedding that we wanted. At the time, we were carefree spirits that had no other need than to pledge our love, make it legal, and ride off into the sunset to an old
farmhouse, our dog, and true love that surpassed explanation. Even given an option at the time, we most likely would still have waived the fuss and fanciness for a unpretentious union at the preachers house.
But, perhaps it is the little girl in me that wishes my husband and I could snuggle together on a cushy sofa and watch our wedding video. While snow is falling outside in white, foggy sheets, we could be wrapped in one another's arms, drinking wine or hot chocolate, rolling our heads back in laughter...our eyes smarting with real tears...our faces frozen with joy - and the beguiling power of going back in time. Of seeing our young selves, our love so new and fresh and frightening, our hearts never more sure of anything ever in our entire lives...
I'd have an ivory dress of vintage lace, pearls from K-mart and a bouquet of just- picked wild flowers.
I'd wear my favorite sandals and rhinestone earrings and wear my hair up in a messy bun, clipped
with a tortoise shell comb.
My husband would wear a nice black dress pants with a crisp white shirt. A colorful tie and his crazy
Earth shoes; his short pony tail gathered with a stylish black rubber band. His face shaven and smelling like the spice of fragrant soap.
Our parents would be there, sitting in white wooden folding chairs on an expanse of green lawn, smiling with pride, yet apprehensive and hopeful. The video would capture the sun on their brows...our mothers with Aqua Net hair doos and new heels -our dads with starchy shirts and polished shoes.
There would be a lopsided, but delicious cake, and flowers of yellow and violet. And there would be music. Eric Clapton and Kris Kristofferson and Creedence Clearwater Revival. And catchy ballads that make a lump rise in your throat.
Yes, music! And a special song that we would dance to in our wedding video. A song that causes a spark, a leap of passion, a reassurance that there will never be any doubts. A song that, years later, can cause me to stop in my tracks whenever I hear it. Our song. One that can make me cry in the
grocery store, smile at a party, or sing out loud in the car.
And someday when we watch the video, we will see the aura that we share. We will see sweet kisses
and stolen glances and the way the sunlight played upon our hair.
Even though we will be old and gray, we will watch the video again and again, every year, every anniversary, every time we need to remember who we were and how we loved in the beginning.
Perhaps it's not the big wedding, the enchanting video, the still life photos of a special day...maybe
it's a yearning to be young again, to go back and hold on tighter, love deeper... embrace the falling away of time.
Perhaps that is what my heart really covets.
Perhaps that is it...