Saturday morning, and the day's prompt is to write about my dream day, and whether it has happened yet, and if not, how might I make it happen?
There's a song that came out just about the time that Rick and I had set our wedding date. It was sung by The Sandpipers, and I've put the link to it from You Tube at the bottom of this post.
Every little girl's dream day would be her wedding day, and in that sense, I was like any other little girl (although, to confess, there was the matter of believing that Queen Elizabeth's real child (me) had been replaced with a boy, for the sake of the crown, and I dreamed that one day Prince Charles would return, admit the deception, and allow me to assume my rightful place in the castle. But I digress...)
Rick and I had watched the political scene from a distance (we weren't old enough to vote until after our first child was born.) The Vietnam 'conflict' was taking many of our generation away ... some marriages were hastily arranged as a result. But I was a planner, and we were responsible, and we would wait until he'd finished school to marry. We'd been good friends for five years, dating for three, and betrothed for two by the time we were married, and we were quite sure that it was the right thing to do. Others may have thought waiting until the new draft lottery was held would be a wiser choice, but we knew, draft or not, military service or not, we were meant to be married. And so we set the date, and like the young couples of the day, yielded the arrangements and guest list to our parents.
I'd planned to carry lilacs from the bushes on our front lawn; my mother warned me that they would be wilted by May 30th, and they were, so my bouquet was a family prayerbook covered in ivy and stefanotis strands, simple, and humbling. The groomsmen all came on time despite the fact that many had attended their senior prom the night before. The bridal party was dressed in bright spring colors of mint and maize, carrying bouquets of daisies and roses in light whites and yellows tightly gathered, and it all looked as though my simple bouquet had been planned that way.
The reception, with a turkey dinner and red wine (which we were not yet old enough, at 20, to drink) was filled with dancing and all the traditional games ... throwing the garter to the single men, and the bouquet to the single young ladies ... clinking the glasses to encourage another kiss for the bride and groom ... dancing with the father of the bride, and the mother of the groom, and then the tin cans tied to the rear bumper, with a printed wedding napkin tucked into the gas cap, to alert all that this was a wedding couple.
It was the day a dream came true, and was followed by yet another soon after, when the draft lottery spared Rick ... and yet again, when our daughter was born a year later ... and many years later when our son was born.
Our most recent dream day was this past Thanksgiving weekend, when, with a generous gift certificate I'd received at my retirement party, we were able to go with our daughter, son, and grandchildren out for a well-appointed brunch by shore of the Atlantic. All of us at the table -not nearly the size it would have taken for all of us in the olden days - being attended by wait staff and being allowed to wander among the buffet tables laden with traditional breakfast items and tea-time treats as well gave me pause to think, and thank.
I am so blessed with love. My life is made up of my dreams come true.
Here is the link to the music that represented that very special dream day: Come Saturday Morning
