Little Princess

Every girl has dreamed at one point or another of her wedding.  Some may deny it, and there are even a few that really truly have not, but just about every girl has.  Oh, she might have been five when she was thinking about it, acting things out with barbie and ken like she saw on the television, but she has thought about a wedding.

 

Some of us have even had the whole dream affair planned.  for years.  before we even had a groom, or even really knew what a groom was for, the wedding was planned.  From the princess dress in the huge church or castle, to the beachy short dress in the sands of jamaica.

 

I had a dream wedding, I had everything figured out. The colors, the sights, the sounds, most of the food. The only thing that changed with any frequency was the dress and the groom.

 

It was beautiful (in my mind) the colors were white on white with flecks of silver and then flashes of the deepest royal blue and emerald green.  The reception was held in doors, the walls draped with white fabric of different patterns.  My bouquet was white on white flowers, roses and peonies and hydrangea, with sprigs of blue thistle popping up here and there, and a cascade of green ivy draping over my hands.

 

Everything was white and silver, from the linens to the decorations, which were hung so carefully from the naked tree branches in vases, all painted white, with bits of blue ribbon, or green ribbon woven around and in between.

 

The food escapes me, the music has changed over the years, but the last song played has always been, “Stairway to Heaven” by Led Zepplin.  Always.

 

I know I can’t possibly be alone in this.  This planning of the wedding.

 

But, things change, plans change, people change.  I no longer need the big wedding with family and friends and people I don’t even know there.  I don’t even for certain know that I want the big wedding anymore.  I’d be perfectly fine with a small ceremony with a few friends, dinner and drinks at a restaurant afterwards and then a week or so together with my man, happy and in love.

 

And I think to myself, man, I’m getting old.  And more romantic than ever before.  Strange that, how romance changes over time.  I no longer want to be Cinderella riding off in her carriage with her prince.

 

I just want to be me.  And him to be him.  And us to be us.

 

I think that’s a dream worth aspiring towards.

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