My mother warned me not to. I rarely heed sound advice.
A week too late, I dress for what should have been my wedding
Gown, veil, garters, and shoes – all in white
My friends excused themselves from what they insist is merely an exercise in futility or folly
Taken as an excuse to burn calories, they are indeed correct
Taken as an activity for my well-being, only I stand without blemish in this assessment
Now, I walk from the bottom the spiral staircase in both literal and figurative fashion. Today, only the latter suffices.
With each step, bouquet in hand
I ponder what might have been said
What might have been accomplished
What might have come to be
But, what never came to pass
Up the spiral staircase, I am using borrowed time I can never reimburse to make whole.
I scoffed at the adage of not seeing or being seen
The night prior to the nuptials
Weddings are for the bride
And this one
Might have been as proposed
Unless quoted, history (unfortunately) bypasses Jacques Necker.
I had nerves, concerns, anxiety, and reflections
He had the strength for two
I wanted an immediate respite
He wanted an immediate future
Our argument included all that should never be remembered
Except how he concluded it, “You are a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there”.
The staircase has but one more spiral
One more turn to think
Not about the last sentence I ever heard him speak
Only about how I needed to reply
And how I failed to do so
Andy Betz has tutored and taught in excess of 30 years. He lives in 1974, and has been married for 27 years. His works are found everywhere a search engine operates.