Flower Girl
On this day in 1978, my oldest sister got married. I was the Flower Girl. She was young. I had been 6 years old for almost two weeks.
I am the youngest of four and was what some would call a surprise, so my other sister-closest in age to me, is six years older than I am. Our older sister is another six years older than her. And, we have a brother who is between the two of them (10 years older than me). I don’t have very many vivid memories from those first six years. Most of my memories start with elementary school. And, most of what I think are memories of her wedding are really memories of photographs of that day.
There is one of cute little me in a 1970’s flowery pale yellow dress with long hair pulled up in a bun and Baby’s Breath flowers in a crown around it. I had a small white basket that held the rose petals that I dropped along the aisle for her before our father walked her down it.
I’ve been told my whole life that she was “like a second mom” to me. Our mother marvels at how grown up she was for a 12 year old and how much she helped take care of “the baby.” It never really occurred to me what that may mean for the 12 year old. I can’t imagine it was easy to be grown at such a young age. Of course, our mom also says that “she was grown the day she was born.” Maybe she is what folks nowadays call “an old soul.”
Whatever she is, she was absolutely EVERYTHING to me when I was six. And, one of my earliest memories of ALL my memories is from the moments just after she had become a wife.
This was in the days when the tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding was practically considered biblical. So, there were no photos taken before the wedding. At the rehearsal the night before, we were told that when the wedding was over, everyone would recess back up the aisle, out the front door of the church building, then walk down the sidewalk to come into the side door and back into the back of the sanctuary as the guests exited to walk down the hill to our house where the reception would be held.
It is JUST NOW THIS MINUTE occurring to me how efficient that was. It is just what I would suggest if I were stage managing such an event. Was that a seed planted that very day?
Anyway, the night before the wedding, I slept where I slept every night. In the full-sized bed in my oldest sister’s bedroom right next to her. She was EVERYTHING to me.
This early memory of mine is really just a flash. I have to fill in the details with what I know happened, but what are not truly memories. The recessional played and the very happy couple led the way up the aisle. As the Flower Girl, I was right behind them, but I couldn’t keep up. Out the front door of the church they went, down the many steps from the porch to the sidewalk. The flash of memory is from the sidewalk along the western side of the church. My sister and her new husband (who, I should say has literally been around as long as I can remember) were practically running up the sidewalk to the back door of the church. I am six years old. Baby’s Breath in my hair and unable to keep up with them and they are absolutely oblivious to my existence. She was EVERYTHING to me and I was following her up the sidewalk watching her disappear into her new life. The memory flash includes me crying and saying, “He’s taking my sister away from me. He’s taking my sister away from.”
I guess I’ve always been a bit dramatic!
I also guess I was talking to myself because in my memory they are far in front of me and I am far in front of whoever was behind me. It is just that. Just that quick flash on the sidewalk, the short walk around the church before we went to get all the pictures taken that would become the Wedding Album that would feel like memories but are just photographs.
I have very vague memories from the reception, but I think they are more like remembering the stories that the family has told me during these last 43 years. I do remember it was very crowded at the reception which was held in our house next door to the church.
The church didn’t have a fellowship hall built yet. Now that I think about it. This was likely the first wedding that had been held in the new church building that my dad had overseen as pastor of a congregation that was relocating.
The “bride’s cake” was in the Living Room. The “groom’s cake” was in the Den near the fireplace. The doors were open and people were mingling outside as well as inside. I remember the “groom’s cake” was chocolate and had a plastic crown as the topper. My obsession with chocolate began very early. A crown, though? Really? Do they even do bride’s and groom’s cakes anymore?
Then, the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me in my entire life happened. I LOST MY FIRST TOOTH. I think it was the top right. Of course, it was one in the front. He can have my sister! I lost a tooth!
I walked around that reception telling anyone and everyone who would listen. I held tissue on the front of my mouth to stop the bleeding AND to make sure everyone could see that something important had happened. I knew that this meant that even though I wouldn’t get to sleep in my big sister’s bed anymore, I would be getting at least a quarter under my pillow that night. It wasn’t EVERYTHING, but it was something.
