Married

On October 29^th I’m marrying my ex-husband and everyone’s here to celebrate. 

We’re staying in a beautiful house in Kissimmee with my three siblings, some of their kids, my mother and my cousin.  My kids are here and my grandson.  At the pinnacle there were 18 of us here. 

“I’ve got the wheels,” shouts my sister, “Let’s go shopping,”

“I’m coming.”

“Wait for me!”

“Oh, oh, oh, can I come too?”

They shop in packs my British family, laughing all the way there and laughing still as they tumble back into the house with a whole lot more stuff and a whole lot less money.

Yesterday is wedding day.  Ah, chaos in full.  We’re all here and we’re all involved.

There’s a little group in the corner, being led by my 26-year-old son, my niece and nephew who’re both under 12, and my brother.  They’re blowing balloons.

“Great job,” I call from the lanai where I’m busy rolling ribbon round the bouquets I’ve just made.

Until I hear the Munchkins singing “We’re off to see the Wizard…”

“What the …?”  It’s no the Munchkins at all.  In fact, the TV is off for once.

It’s THEM.  Their voices are squeaking and distorted.  They’re all sucking helium and singing in elfin voices like Alvin and the Chipmunks.  My 80-year-old mother is watching, horrified yet amused.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, no, no.  Here do you want to try Mum?” says David.

“Oh no!  No thank you I’m far too old for that.”

“Oh but it’s funny, it makes you sing in a prickly voice,” says my niece as her brother begins to sing,

“The wheels on the bus go round, round, round,” they collapse in high-pitched giggles.

Ashton, my one-and-a-half year old grandson is chasing balloons, biting them and trying to pop them like his dog does.  My sisters cook and chat, while my daughter ices one of the cakes.

My ex, soon to be husband-again, is hanging fairy lights (with my brother.)  Three days before the wedding he’s diagnosed with Bells Palsy.  Poor darling, his face is half-paralyzed and lopsided.  He’s so angry he could scream,

“I look like a monster; people will think you’re marrying a monster.”

“I don’t think so.  I bet they feel a whole lot worse for you.  But if you’re that worried, maybe we can get a Phantom of the Opera mask since it’s Halloween and you can get married in the mask!”

We laugh.  You have to laugh, because it’s madness in this house.  I haven't had a drink in 4 1/2 years and I feel I'm in a daze with everything going on!  Poor Mum is in even more of a fizz, she has Alzheimer’s and wanders round asking the same questions over and over and over again.  Makes us want to scream sometimes.  We don't.  We laugh and we love her and scream in silence.

The funniest part of the wedding happens the day before the rehearsal when Carlos and I get a call from the realtor saying we need to be out of our house by Sunday afternoon. 

“What?”  I yelp.  The wedding is on Saturday.  OMG.  I’m ROFLing now.

“Yes, there’s been a misunderstanding with the papers.  No one remembered to notify us.”

We have a pre-wedding packing day and get the house ready to move in less that 12 hours.  I’m pooped.  Everyone’s pooped, but we shut the front door and leave the boxes behind to enjoy the day of our wedding.

Rehearsal is a disaster.  My cousin's plane is late, the airport is jammed and traffic is hell, so I'm the last one to arrive at the church.  Everyone's waiting - but we're laughing non-stop.

"Cath will to pay attention!" cries Father Don, "you've got the worst case of ADD I've ever seen."

I snap to attention just as we're practicing the whole "... in sickness and in health..."

Everyone's howling with laughter, Carlos has promised to care for me "...in sexiness and in health..."  Now THAT'S funny.

Back at the wedding party house it’s raining as I’m putting the flowers out on the deck the morning of the "day".  I’ve already jumped into the pool in my pajamas with my grandson at breakfast, so nothing really matters anymore.

By noon the showers are a going non-stop and someone's doling out pizza slices and salad.

"Where's my ...?"

"I can't see the ..."

"What time are we leaving?"

"Should I wear this one or that one?"

"Ten minutes and we're leaving!"

"Is it the wedding today?"

"I'm not ready yet!"

"She's still in the shower."

"What time are we leaving?"

But by some amazing celestial intervention we're at the church on time, Dad would be so proud.

The wedding is glorious and just before we exchange ‘I do’s,’ the sun pours in through the west-facing windows of the little church and I swear angels fly in on its beams.  My grandson Ashton sees them too and smiles as he follows them flitting about the pretty church.

I’m married and moved and so very, very happy.