When Peter and I got engaged, I promised myself that the wedding planning would be smooth and easy. Growing up, I wasn’t like the other girls who spent their time daydreaming about their weddings.
I just knew that it would eventually happen one day, and I would need cupcakes at my wedding reception. That was it.
So, I always knew that when it came to the actual event, I would need my mother to guide me.
My wedding was also going to be her chance at planning a wedding because my parents were not married.
They were dating when they discovered that my mother was pregnant. Of course, my father promptly packed his bags and left before I was born.
“But that’s just a thing of the past, Nicole,” my mother told me when we went shopping for wedding dresses.
“And you’re happy now, with Anthony?” I asked her, watching her eye two dresses in particular.
They were not to my taste, so I knew my mother was looking at herself in those dresses.
She was in a happy long-term relationship with Anthony, and I knew that sometimes she dreamed about a wedding of her own.
But still, as we planned my wedding, she was a little too eager to help choose the flowers, the cake, and even the table setting for my reception.
“Mom,” I said to her as she sat hunched over my wedding notebook. “You need to back off just a little bit.”
She smiled at me and nodded, not saying anything. Which immediately made me feel horrible. But it seemed to be the gentle nudge that she needed.
Because she did take a step back, only checking on the final preparations with Anna, my wedding planner.
On my wedding day, I sat on the balcony of my hotel room, eating a banana, something that I had seen brides do on TV, and I felt a growing excitement that only hit now.
I was finally getting married. But nothing could have prepared me for what the day was about to bring.
I arrived at the church early with my hair and makeup artists ready to do the final glam before I walked down the aisle.
As I stepped into the bride’s dressing room, my excitement transformed into shock before my eyes.
There, next to the floor-length mirror, sat my mother, in a full-on white wedding dress, holding a pair of shoes.
“Mom? What’s happening? What are you doing?”
My mother beamed at me, it was a smile so big and so bright that for a few seconds, I actually forgot what was going on.
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