sylvia pimentalThe Bride
November 4th 2006 04:51
The bride wore white. Just like her mother and her mother’s mother before her. Her entire life had been building up to this day. From the very first time somebody had asked her what she wanted to do when she grew up she knew. She wanted to get married.
While other girls played with dolls and pulled each other’s hair. She planned the table arrangements for her reception. By fourteen she had started on the menu. After that came the bridesmaid’s attire and other such incidentals which had to be dealt with before she could get down to the really serious business of designing her wedding dress. White of course. Satin. But flowing with yards and yards of veil.
She picked out a little church with thick shady trees and rose gardens and a nice hall for the reception. She was set. She even found a man to marry her. She dressed him in a classic black suit and marched him down the aisle.
Her day had arrived. Nothing as important as her wedding would ever happen to her again. There was no up from here. Only down.
While other girls played with dolls and pulled each other’s hair. She planned the table arrangements for her reception. By fourteen she had started on the menu. After that came the bridesmaid’s attire and other such incidentals which had to be dealt with before she could get down to the really serious business of designing her wedding dress. White of course. Satin. But flowing with yards and yards of veil.
Her day had arrived. Nothing as important as her wedding would ever happen to her again. There was no up from here. Only down.
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