|A wedding to take place just beyond our hotel room's balcony!|
I'm the designated cryer of happy tears at weddings, graduations, christenings or brises. Hey, in every group, individuals have roles: leader, follower, prankster, peace-keeper, slacker, worker bee, and so on. A cryer isn't called upon often, but I'm there when needed.
Earlier this week, Hubs and I fled Houston for two days on Lake Travis. Our room had a balcony overlooking water, and when we stepped outside to admire the view, we spied the set-up for a wedding. Hooray! For me, a wedding ranks much higher, amenity-wise, than HBO and fancy toiletries. We settled into deck chairs and prepared to watch the ceremony. I did not, however, grab tissues. This was, after all, the wedding of strangers. I had no memories of the bride and groom as toddlers, sulky teenagers, or young adults with their first full-time jobs. Someone else would weep on cue.
Wouldn't you know my eyes filled long before the bride appeared. The flower girl, who'd been skipping across the lawn moments earlier, froze when it came time for her to walk the aisle. Her daddy had to carry her plus her tiny basket of rose petals. The task of scattering the petals also fell to him since his daughter had wound her arms around his neck and buried her head between his neck and shoulder.
Next, the mothers of the bride and groom walked the aisle to the tune of Simon and Garfunkel's "Bridge over Troubled Water."
It's not a typical processional, and I couldn't remember all the lyrics, but what I recalled told me these two moms had been there, really been there, for their kids. I saluted them with tears.
"I'll take your part
When darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down."
Later in the ceremony, the moms stood beside the bride and groom. His arm looped over his mother's shoulder, and the bride held her mom's hand. I sniffled.
Throughout the ceremony, the writer in me made up stories. One of them may inspire a novel.
My take-away: 1. Weddings, no matter where, no matter whose, are magical. 2. Tears function as a canary in the coal mine--an early-warning system that indicates emotion is bubbling under the surface. As a writer, I want to tap that emotion. 3. Story ideas materialize in the most unexpected places.
Do you cry at weddings? Make up stories about strangers? Arrive early to pick up friends and family at the airport so you can watch the people milling around baggage claim?
Superlative news: Lark Howard, who started this blog and had to quit it due to her day-job responsibilities and evening writing schedule, made the finals of the Golden Heart, Romance Writers of America's prestigious contest for unpublished writers. Yay, Lark!