The plan had been in motion for months and, yet, it seemed to happen too quickly. On a plane, off a plane, in the hotel room and finally sitting in a chair watching a stranger work magic with scissors until she finally placed the simple white tulle headpiece on my head.
I sat there, sipping hurricanes from cheap, plastic, novelty cups and chatting to my friend who came with me for moral support. Secretly, I think he was there to make sure I did not run.
Not that I intended to do so, I did say yes after all, but I often wonder if my friend feared what I would do left to my own devices. This was fair since I was tipsy by the time I was being zipped up and shuttled to the chapel.
As we waited our turn, I started to shake.
This is going too fast. Need to breath. Can’t breath, everyone was looking at me, well all of the eight people who attended – ten if you count the groom and our son. When is this thing going to be over with all ready? Hate being the center of attention and let’s face it, when you are dressed in white everybody turns his or her head to see what is going on, even in Sin City.
Papers signed, bouquet in hand, music starts; as a jet lag toddler and I make our way down the isle. No one more fitting to give me away then the (second) main reason we were there.
The words the minister spoke were inconsequential until I found his face and his eyes just as the minister asked the only question I had to answer and everything stopped.
I held my breath, opened my mouth and the words were stuck.
Finally, I breathed – I do.
Stephen King said, “The scariest moment is always just before you start. After that, things can only get better.”This week we asked you to write a memoir post inspired by that statement – in 300 words or less. View the rest here.
