Satin, lace and crinoline.
A creamy, dreamy, fairy-tale gown, beautifully adorned with a sequined bodice shimmering in the mid-morning sun.
She, a bride of beauty. Of eternal optimism.
He, the groom, waiting for her, dressed in the tartan of his native clan:
Kilt, sporran, hose.
Looking dapper. Seeming happy.
Honeysuckle-covered trellis highlighted with lavender sweet peas and fuchsia roses, chosen to complement her bridal bouquet.
Verdant lawn filled with close friends and family.
Celtic tunes floating in the warm autumn air.
A resplendent ceremony ~ exchanging vows of holy matrimony, of everlasting love.
Her optimism eventually overshadowed by the slow and torturous onslaught of futility, heartache and shame.
The wedding gown given away, years later, to a second-hand store… like an old t-shirt… like an unwanted possession.
Yet offering, perhaps, a semblance of hope to the next bride.
… she does not mourn the end of her marriage.
Only the misconceptions of love.
Deep down inside… her heart still flutters with romantic possibilities.
©2011 Enchanted Zaftig