3/26/04
All the cliches and everything:
The old, new, borrowed, blue,
My wearing your old ivory veil
And Dad escorting me down the aisle
To Pachelbel's Canon in D.
And there won't be a stepmother there
For a distant young man to usher in last:
He will be the dimpled son you loved again.
You will sit among the women of my family;
You will all be radiant together,
You will dispel all the shadows in their smiles.
I promise I would have a Catholic wedding,
Even bring up Catholic babies
You could wash in the kitchen sink on weekdays
Just as we had planned: I would drop them
On my way to teach, teach a bit about teh
Latest time I called you crying with mothering questions.
I can't expect you to pick a husband for me, certainly;
Some things I'd do without if you were here
To leave those dramas up to me;
As it is I'd still ahve to draw the line of grown up in the gray,
Discern what I should on my own decide--
But I wish you could be mother of the bride.
