The air was heavy as the sun reflected brightly off the white, canvass tent covered yard. A hint of summer had crawled onto the porch as a bead of sweat rolled down the side of my face. It was Lonny’s wedding day. He sat anxiously on the porch swing, phone to his ear, chatting away about the days events, watching his bride prepare for the big day. I relaxed in the old, country rocking chair wondering if my presence reminded him of my mother. I contemplated if he had second thoughts., or if he wondered what my mother would think or say about his new wife. Would she be happy for him? Would she approve? Would she think Pam was a suitable replacement? Or would she hate Pam? Would she be angry at his choice?
Florence, a middle-aged go getter interrupted my thoughts. I placed my coffee mug on the wooden railing of the porch and ran off to assist in decorating. Twelve tables, 120 chairs, 3 tents, 100 or so pink and purple orchids, and bridal tool everywhere. My sister, so sweet, so innocent was in the middle of it all. Florence, had wrapped some white netting and a pink plastic flower in her hair. Nicole pretended that she was the bride. She practiced walking down the aisle with a wide grin and a spring in her step. She seemed so happy, so content so accepted. She adored Pam and was more than excited to be in the wedding. As I stretched out table cloths, arranged chairs and captured pre-wedding moments on film, I watched Lonny’s new bride-to-be scuttle back and forth between the tents and the house. How unplanned, how unprepared, how chaotic she felt. Her sister, Pat, was by her side calming her nerves, assuring her that things will turn out ok. This, in fact, was Pam’s seventh marriage, her seventh wedding, the seventh person she will promise death do she part. Would she stay by his side that long? Would she love him forever? Her movements were so edged, so purposeful. Her tanned body and sun bleached hair blended into the picturesque Florida backdrop. Her rugged outer appearance camouflaged her fears, broken dreams and insecurities. She seemed to gather strength from Lonny and him from her.
The day pressed on with food deliveries, kegs, grills, daiquiri machines, more food, the hairdresser, and the arrival of the officiator of the ceremony, Lee Alcorn. I had met Mr. Alcorn prior to this day, as he was Nicole’s middle-school special education teacher for 4 years. But this day he came in faded jeans and a loose fitting blue dress shirt. He adorned a brown necklace that matched his weathered sandals. His long dark, curly hair emanated from his head like a dazzling waterfall in the desert. He had finesse, charisma and just enough cowboy in him to hypnotize the woman and lull the men.
As the ceremony began I watched my little sister stroll down the wedding aisle, walking so eloquently on the fresh hay and white rose petals. My eyes began to well up. How mature she looked in her long pink, flowered dress and panty-hose. It did not seem like it had been 17 years since the day she was born. How far she had come in those years, how she had grown into a beautiful young woman. My heart was bursting with pride. My mother would be so proud, if only she could she see her daughter now. When my sister turned to look back at the door I shifted my camera too. Pam flowed from the house that my mother and Lonny had built from scratch. She looked so damn joyful. Lonny stood on the gazebo beaming in his own happiness. I forced my feelings of resentment back down into the crevices of my soul. This was their day, and I was truly happy for them. I would NOT think about my mother. But that was impossible, she was everywhere; in the house, in the yard, in the room where I slept. Over half the people at the wedding I had just seen 17 months prior at my mother’s funeral. Despite my efforts she was still there. I blinked tears away, I refused to cry. I continued to video tape the vows. Mr. Alcorn pressed forward regardless of the audio malfunctions. Lonny and Pam exchanged rings and Nicole prematurely yelled, “Now kiss the bride!” Everyone laughed and Mr. Alcorn simply responded to her with, “we are getting to that, Nicole.” And that they did. They kissed and was pronounced husband and wife as the song, “Married for Money” carried them into the crowd.
The reception was a blur. Frog legs, gator tail, chicken, a hog in a china box, potato salad, chef salad, hot salad, macaroni salad, pasta salad, cole slaw, baked beans and two wedding cakes. I sat with Tom, Alice and Corrine, wonderful people that have stood by Lonny’s side through the good, the bad and the ugly; compellingly intelligent, warm, professional people who I have always respected and admired. I always felt empowered to embrace the world after talking with them. There were so many people there that I had met at some point in my mom’s 16 years of marriage to Lonny. They seemed to remember me if I did not recognize them.
Later that night, after all the guests were gone, I sat under the tent with Pam, Pat and the crickets, reflecting upon the day. Pat and I with a margarita and Pam wither a beer laughed and giggled about life, love and men. After the bugs ran us to the house we broke into an unmolested pie and drove Lonny to their bedroom. Pam, filled with exhaustion, sugar, beer, strawberry daiquiri, and champagne dropped the wedding cake on the floor. We laughed until we nearly peed our pants. The cake was not destroyed, it landed upright in the box, so all was well with the world.
Now it is time for Lonny, Pam and Nicole to move forward, to not constantly look back. It is time for a new tomorrow with new adventures with old friends, to reflect on the good memories, while making new ones. It is time to leave the past, honor the dead, to mend broken hearts and to embrace the future with fervent anticipation. It is time.
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