Wedding Day Series {2}

I look around a room that in a short while will be overflowing with the laughter and chatter of family and friends. Eating, drinking and dancing. Potted tree limbs with twinkle lights strung around illumine the room. It's romantic, like this is the place love comes for inspiration. Each time I take a step my heel echoes on the concrete finished floors. Tables in white, decorated with an assortment of fall colored, wild flowers and vintage hand-me-downs. It is magical. 

My toes feel squished into my canvas, nude, Calvin Klein stilettos--almost to the point of discomfort. I look down and am unable to see my feet through the layers of my ivory dress. Pushing my foot back into my heel, I attempt to create some relief. I can't. There is talking around me, maybe even to me, but as soon as the DJ begins to play music the conversations stop. Grandparents are seated first, and I watch from a distance. I realize that as each person makes their way down the aisle, my time is getting closer. 

Whether initiated by my nerves or my insecurities, I'm unsure, but I desired to look at myself one last time (before I became wife). The sound of my heels follow me through an arched doorway to the right of the reception area. I enter a powder, pink ladies room.  As I stand there looking at myself, shaking from a mixture of nerves and excitement, I realize that I'm past the point of change. Just as I am about to walk back through the arched doorway, my mom enters in. At first she doesn't say anything. She just looks as if time has escaped her. Here, her little girl in stands, a young woman, a bride. Both of our eyes well up with tears. "Don't cry, we'll mess up our mascara."  Without saying a word my mom embraces me and takes me by the hand. It's time.