Fifty Days

I have sixteen minutes to write, so I will.

I used to think that brides fell off the face of the earth for a year because they were so drastically in love that they couldn't see straight; that they couldn't be bothered with friends. I now know it is because they had tasks to do. So many tasks.

I re-ordered the bride shoes last night; I got it wrong the first time. I bought voluminous petticoats and carefully considered bras. (The ability to breathe? ALWAYS in fashion!) The bridal updo trial salon appointment, made. A second appointment for alterations, booked. It's almost time to order the crowns, order the flowers, make sure the rings are engraved.

It's almost time.

I hope that everything turns out as good as my intentions.

I hope everyone will have a good time at my party. 

I hope the marriage turns out as good as it can be made; can be built.

But at this point, all I want is to take him in my arms at the reception

And dance

The first

dance.