I have instructed my bridesmaids to wear Alfred Angelo dress number 7174 in sapphire. The groomsmen will wear periwinkle windsor ties with their chalk stripe tuxedos. They must wear vests. I’ve never liked cummerbunds.
The three year-old boy said nothing when I asked him about the burn on his shoulder. Its shape looked like the hot, steel surface of an iron. He also said nothing when I asked him about the purple-green bruise that stretched from the side of his neck to his right ear. When I asked him about his parents, he looked away.
My bouquet will have orange circus roses, apricot roses, and miniature calla lilies. A lavender bow will wrap them together. My maid of honor will have the same bouquet, except orange freesia blossoms will replace the calla lilies. Her bouquet will be a third smaller than mine.
Her oncologist sent her to the hospital again. Last month, her five-foot, six-inch frame weighed 108 pounds. This time, her weight was 91 pounds. She gasped from the effort of sitting up in bed. The stomach cancer was winning. Her husband pulled me aside and asked, “Do you think she will make it to her 26th birthday?”
The wedding invitations will have dimensions of five inches by seven inches on 110-pound cardstock in eggshell white. The swirls at the top will be plum in color and the charcoal text will be in serif font to provide contrast to the flowing lines. I’ve ordered 100 purple “pansies in the basket” LOVE stamps from the post office.
“I’m going to be late for work!” the 73 year-old woman screeched. “Why won’t you let me leave my own home? I’m going to be late for work!”
Her daughter, her eyes red, wiped her nose and looked away.
“Who is she?” Mother screamed at me while pointing at Daughter. “Why won’t she let me leave? I’m going to be late for work!”
Daughter put her hand over her mouth. Her shoulders quivered.
My wedding dress will be ivory in color and satin in material. It will have a dropped waistline and an A-line silhouette. The gown will be floor-length and have a chapel train.
My wedding will be perfect.
Maria Yang, MD 