|Title:||The Half-Forgotten Wedding|
once went to a wedding that took place outdoors amidst the buzzing hush
of kind spectators and turning foliage.
I was accompanied by a girl who wore a clever smile and a dress
the color of crushed grapes. Her
name is a blotted discoloration on the back of my mind- one of timeís
little tricks to keep us alive. The
bride and groom are just names these days, both their faces and bodies
are hiding behind the thick distortion of fading remembrance.
Though I can tell you little of the actual ceremony and I am at
an embarrassing loss of what become of the two that thought it a keen
idea to invite me to their wedding, I can tell you that I am glad I was
in the number that witnessed their joining together in as sacred an
institution as man can be part of.
remember a breeze playing with the tops of tall trees and I remember a
song that was either sung aloud by someone, or played back on some type
of stereo. I donít
actually recall the song. Its
melody escapes me, its lyrics evaded my capture for commitment to the
snapshot of the moment, and I canít be sure its title was ever known
to me. I do, however,
remember the way it sang to them and I think that was its purpose.
A crack commando squad could have quietly taken all of us
spectators out and it wouldnít have made a difference to them. They were not there to put on a show or marry the camera;
they were there to marry each other.
have, of course, been to several weddings since then, but my
recollection of those, while sharing the same sketchy memory for
details, have in some ways failed to elicit the same feeling of
connection with the process. Perhaps
it was kindness of all the intentional by-standers or the forgotten girl
in the grape dress, but I really could see my self, standing in the
half-light of a tempered mid-day sun telling some special girl, perhaps
she of the bruised dress, that I would be there to fight the fights of
real life and hold her hand through the driving madness of the earthís
ellipse through the silent star laden universe.
earth has twisted its way around the sun a few times since then.
no longer know the girl in the purple dress.
can still smell the damp grass and I still feel the guilt of leaving
I hope that they are in still in the throws of significance. I wish them eternally the same wishes I did that very day.