Monday, February 22, 2010
Cheever Arms: Part 2
10:21 PM |
Edit Post
Edit Post
by Emma H
It was there, and now it's gone. There...gone. I watched the sun flicker amongst the clouds through the stained glass windows. I just knew that Norah would be stressed about the "imperfect" weather on her big day.
But other than the weather, everything looked to be running smoothly. Light pink roses greeted every guest at the end of each pew, all the bridesmaids and groomsmen had arrived on time, there were hardly any wardrobe malfunctions, and best of all, Nick and Norah were ecstatic.
I'd never seen Nick so happy; he seemed to glow when he smiled. I remembered the feeling, , knowing that in a matter of hours you would be forever bound to the one you loved. Forever certainly hadn't held up for me.
Glancing beside me on the church bench, I noticed Tatum picking at the little rosettes on the waist of her cream flower-girl dress. Her blond curls, which had lightened in the spring sun, were done up in a little bun on her head, kept together by one light green ribbon tied in a bow. I reached over to tighten the little ribbon and she looked up at me.
"Daddy, I'm nervous," she said.
I gave her a reassuring smile, don't worry, Tate, you'll be fine. You are the prettiest one here you know."
"Oh, Dad." Tatum giggled.
"Just remember to smile, put one foot in front of the other...and that I love you." Weddings: always emotional.
"I love you to, Daddy," she whispered, leaning into me for a hug. I wrapped my right arm around her shoulders. I held her close, wanting to always remember her feeling this small.
One of the bridesmaids hustled down the aisle in her dress the same colour as the ribbon in Tatum's bun. She was looking a little harried; her hair was falling from her once neat up-do, her forehead had a crease right in the middle from worry.
"Tatum, sweetie, it's almost time to start," she said. "Can you come back to where Norah is?"
I gave her one last squeeze, kissed her on the forehead and let her slide out from under my arm to follow the bridesmaid to the back so the ceremony could begin. Almost immediately the music started, slow and sweet. Tatum was the first to walk down the aisle.
When I saw her, my breath caught in my throat. She looked ten times older than she did just now when she was hugging me. I tried to see her as she was, an eight-year-old little girl full of spirit and innocence. But my eyes kept tricking me; I saw her, older now, walking elegantly down the aisle. She smiled at her guests, but kept her eyes on the people on the altar. Her face was no longer rounded with childhood; her figure was no longer even and short. Tatum looked stunning; I couldn't watch.
I turned my head and found the stained glass window, staring hard at it. I willed the tears not to come, for the lump in my throat to go away. Suddenly, I felt something fall into my right hand lightly; Tatum had walked over to me and placed on of the petals she was strewing throughout the aisle in my palm.
I know I cannot have her forever, but at she is mine for now.
Labels:
fiction
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
I really enjoyed your use of the word Hustled when describing the bridesmaid. Its verbs like that that bring writing alive for me. :)
Thanks Tim! :) I appreciate that a lot.
Post a Comment