By Lorry Myers
It was a lovely wedding.
When we began the four-hour drive to get there, I studied the tiny map that came with the wedding invitation. The hand drawn illustration was slightly confusing and referenced not trusting your GPS, so, we were dangerously close to being late. When we arrived, my daughter, the bride’s maid, who was poised to walk down the aisle, gave us a look that said “You are late! Where have you been, I’ve been worried about you?”
I just smiled at her, appreciating the irony.
The ceremony was short and we again got out our wedding map and followed it to the reception hall a few miles from our hotel. The large rental hall parking lot was full when we arrived so we parked way in the back, worrying that we were late again. My husband, the wedding hater, kept tugging at his shirt collar as we walked up to a place we had never been.
We rounded the corner of the long building into a crowd of people hanging outside the door. We excused our way in and after signing the guest registry and leaving our gift, my eyes scanned the room, looking for a familiar face or an empty table. Randy took a place in the drink line and I started working the room, chatting with people who caught my eye or guests who stopped to quiz me about who I was. I met Aunt Grace and Cousin Rebecca and the bride’s coworker who was going to cut the cake. Finally, I stopped at a table with two empty seats and by the time I was finished talking to the other table guests, I had an invitation to join them.
I caught Randy’s eye as he searched the room with drinks in his hands. He made his way through the throng and I introduced him to our table mates just as the announcement came that the wedding party had arrived. We stood as one by one they entered the hall; five bridesmaids identically dressed in pink, none of them my daughter. I was feeling slightly nauseated by the time the married couple were announced. The bride’s dress was beautiful and so was the bride but, she was not our bride.
This was not our wedding reception!
For the complete column, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard