Always a Bridesmaid....and a bride

I’ve always wondered why June is such a popular time for weddings. I mean, unless you’re planning to fly to Alaska or far north for your nuptials, the summer is just too dang hot.

Anyway, despite the time of year, I love weddings. Who doesn’t? Except for maybe the grooms who have to put up with a bridezilla, or the parents of said monstrosity who have to fork out thousands of dollars for a few hours of food and drink. 

When I was younger, my family didn’t have big weddings because, well...being poor kinda puts a wrench into the whole dozen bridesmaids and champagne fountain. When someone got married it was usually just a quiet ceremony at the courthouse and a little reception at home. My favorite part of the reception was when the bride threw the bouquet. And, as you may know, it’s said that whoever catches the bouquet will be the next to get married.  Yep....I caught it (accidently, I was trying to spike it back to my older sister, who was hiding in the back of the group and the dang thing got caught on my ring....true story.) Anyway, since I was only about 14, I didn’t foresee my wedding happening anytime soon. However, four years later, shortly after graduating high school, I too tied  the knot, in a semi-formal wedding in a real church. Needless to say, I was way to young to get married, so that marriage was annulled less than a year later.

In the twelve years that followed my being single I had the chance to be a bridesmaid to several friends....which is so much more fun in my opinion. You get to actually enjoy the festivities without worrying if everyone is enjoying the festivities. The brides-to-be were friends I worked with who needed an extra bridesmaid because they were either short one (the grooms being mister popular) or one of the bridesmaids flaked. It was my pleasure to step in and help them out. When it  came time to toss the bouquet, I was corralled with the rest of the single ladies at the foot of the church steps. Since that premonition had already come true for me when I caught my cousin’s flowers, I decided to hide in the back so the other women could have it.  It was a beautiful day, sun shining, a soft breeze in the air. The bride took her place on the stop step and gave everyone her blushing bride smile. She turned around, and tossed the flowers over her head in a perfect arc. As if in slow motion the wind catches it, shifts it’s direction toward the raised hands of the other bridesmaids and the thing lands directly at my feet. Again, true story. =)  But, no, it was several years before I got married again and now I can safely sit in the wings and watch all the single ladies kill each other over a spray of flowers and the hopes of wedding bells in their future.

Incidentally, I actually wrote a version of that wind-beneath-the-bouquet in my novella Her Will His Way, which I pasted below. The book is still on sale at the website or Amazon, if you love a sweet romance with a very hot Hispanic hero. ;-) 

HER WILL HIS WAY – EXCERPT

The ceremony lasted just over an hour, the guests offering their congratulations to the new couple as they exited the church.

Anita waited with a group of women at the foot of the stairs, shooting an annoyed glance at Antonio, who only lifted his shoulders and gave her his best innocent smile. She’d been corralled with the other single women two feet from the stairs as Yolanda prepared to toss her bouquet.

Anita took several small sidesteps, slowly making her way to the back of the crowd. The only reason she’d agreed to participate was because she couldn’t find a polite way to decline Yolanda’s invitation, but maybe if she stood far enough back she wouldn’t have to worry about catching the flowers or getting trampled on in the overexcited frenzy.

“Aren’t you going to catch the flowers?”

Anita smiled at the flower girl beside her. “No. I think I’ll just watch,” she said in a low voice.

Yolanda winked at the bridesmaid in the center of the mix then turned and tossed the spray over her head. The bouquet arced toward the center of the women but, instead of landing in someone’s willing grasp, the flowers shot in Anita’s direction like a spiked volleyball and landed at her feet.

The flower girl grabbed the bouquet and handed it to Anita.

“You won!”