Dear Ones,
I started to write one post today. It was poetry. However, my mind won’t let me get around the words because it is full of memories—like balloons popping in my head. And so I finally succumbed to them and unleashed my thoughts. No poetry today. I don’t want to wallow in the past but sometimes…one can’t help it. Tomorrow will be my anniversary.
Fifty some years ago on Saturday, I married a most wonderful fella. I picked a winner. The night before my wedding was rainy and the forecast for Saturday was showers. Not unusual for a Michigan 6:30 a.m. mass during lent. I walked to Midnight Mass with a boy friend. So it seemed the right thing to do. And walk I did on my father’s arm. He said I looked like a little white duck with all her ducklings trailing behind. Yes, my bridemaids followed holding up my train and hem so I wouldn’t get the lace in the puddles. Neighbors watched and waved from their front porches.
The bridesmaids wore lavender chiffon dresses and carried nosegays of violets. The florist disapproved of my choice…said violets would wilt quickly but I ordered them despite his objections. The picture above of the violas in my flower planter reminds me of those long ago violets. So fragile and yet so feisty.
The rest of my wedding day passed in a fog of rituals, but that memory of walking to church remains crystal clear in my head. Memories gather in the corners of our minds and never leave. Share some of yours with me. I’d love to hear them.
“Love is the only sustaining thing.” St. John
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