So, we got off to a late start. But there we finally were: my father and I on the way to the altar. We’d practiced step-walking at a reasonable pace because he tired easily; step – pause – step. A simple plan which might have worked had Dad not had a ridiculous bout of last-minute vanity.
He adamantly announced he was not going to be photographed carrying his portable oxygen tank and wearing a nasal cannula, and that we would just have to go faster.
My father sprinted down the aisle, picking up speed as we went. Our pace was permanently recorded in my official wedding album. It is abundantly clear that my father is pulling me along behind him. The good news is the absurdity made me laugh, so there’s no chance of any remote future generation ever mistaking the drag as reluctance on my part.
As far as the “Who gives this woman?” question, it never audibly answered. Strapping himself back into his gear, re-oxygenating but still winded, my father shakily raised his right hand and then used his left hand to raise my mother’s .
Of course, we were the last ones’ the travel that path, so I missed seeing Jeff escort his mother. Our wedding photographer captured the essence of that path, as well.
With one hand on his mother’s shoulder and the other on her arm, Jeff was doing his best to both keep his mom going and steer her down the aisle. Rather than use her walker, Sally wobbled from table edge to table edge, with Jeff as a spotter, bringing up the rear.
The aisle was a bit narrow to start with, so there were a few other awkward slightly leading or slightly squishing couples captured, as well. The most important thing was that we all made it, and the marriage could get underway.
Quote for the Week:
Enjoy This Week’s Discovery Links:
Oops: Which Side?
Timing: How Long?
Look Back: And Laugh
Bonus: Push & Drag: