Today, had things gone differently, would have been my wedding day.
Thanks to the joys of federal holidays, I had the day off work anyway. I woke up feeling a little confused- being off work automatically makes it seem like a Sunday, so the morning was pretty uneventful emotionally. I woke up in the living room after a late night of rented movies and Thai takeout in the middle of the floor (followed by waking up twice in the middle of the night to get sick- gall bladder, I will be glad to see you go on Wednesday!).
After morning coffee, I talked S who also had the day off into taking a shower and walk around the neighborhood with me. We roamed around in the 80 degree sunshine eventually making our way to Dozen for a 3 pm breakfast- meatloaf for S and delicious black bean soup for me on their balcony. We grabbed dessert to go and sprawled on a bench in the park to talk for an hour or two.
The walk home was when it really hit me. A missed call from BC on my cell, so I checked my messages. He was “just checking on me.” And it really caught up to me then. This was Monday. My wedding day. And the walk home would bring me right past our wedding site. I panicked a little. I also contemplated taking the long way home. And then I thought better of it.
And right at 6 pm- wedding time- I strolled by the site, head held high, in the fading light of a beautiful day, and looked at my reflection in the front glass. There I was, new haircut, twenty pounds slimmer, and on my way to my house to finish my grad school project four days early. Not a bride, but not bad for four months after the fact. Then I seriously contemplated bourbon. And lots of it. Or an ill-advised phone call to the ex to discuss the not wedding day.
But I thought better of it. I played a round of Oregon Trail on Facebook. Called BC to let him know I’m a survivor. And finished my project with days to spare. I tucked that wedding dress a little bit further to the back of my closet and got ready for bed.
And that’s ok.