I Did

It happened.  I was just sitting there on hold to Walgreens, minding my own business when the On Hold music switched to something other than Muzak.    “The Wedding Song” by Paul Stokey.

A very special tune, that.  How many people have had that one played at some point during their nuptials?   I wonder.

My one wedding celebration was on June 21, 1975.  It was a vibrant sunny Philly-Suburb kinda day with a gentle breeze.  The church was huge…no, I mean really H-U-G-E, more like a cathedral than a local house of worship. I may or may not have described the church in previous post.

I was scared to death, anxious, excited..  suddenly understanding why most wedding gowns were long!  It hid the bride’s knocking knees!  Mine were turning to rubber as we got up the flight of stairs to the the aforementioned real estate’s front door.  At the last minute, I signaled to the usher that both Mom and Dad would be walking me up the aisle.  This was partially because I really believed-and still believe-that the honor of walking a bride up the aisle belong to both parents, and partially because I was shaking so bad.

The wedding was beautiful, my brothers singing and playing the music, dad doing the flowers, my big sister – immeasurable help in so many ways, the family catering, even the dog was on his best behavior when all the guests got back to our tiny little home.

Memories of that day continued to flood through my mind as the song played on….the acoustics near the bread aisle seemed particularly so I fumbled through the sourdough, extending that blast from the past.  I thought of all the family and friends who were in attendance, the perfect wedding, how my beloved looked and how it felt holding his hand as we took our vows.

As “The Wedding Song” concluded, I allowed myself to come back to the present and smiled.

Of course I could go on about how much of a miserable failure I’d been as a wife, there’s plenty of criticism to be heaped at my feet over the ending of our marriage…but somehow it just didn’t seem right to destroy such a wonderful memory with thoughts of things I could not change.  So I didn’t.

I didn’t  spin into a wild bout of recrimination and depression…which would have been easy to do. Instead, I focused on being thankful for the good things of that day, and returned to the task at hand….shopping for Jack and I and getting on with my life.

So for today Fifty Five Is The New found freedom… Freedom from the slavery of self hatred….found at the grocery store bread aisle.

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