Wrinkles Only Go…
Wrinkles only go where the smiles have been. You wouldn't think by looking at the faces of my beloved parents, but their smiles to wrinkles ratio is slightly off. Like many things about them, their faces look just as young as they did sixteen years ago. It is as if father time keeps his winds to himself when it comes to my mother and father's faces. However their hair betrays them. Father's is an iron grey, a severe grey, stone, steel, ship, timber wolf, thunder gray. Mother's is a soft snowy white. I gaze into the ornate floor mirror and watch my parents gaze into the mirror across the room. Father has given up wrestling with his bow tie; mother has yet again come to his rescue. In all nineteen years of marriage the bow tie is the one thing eluding my father's mastery. I watch them share a kiss as I finger absent – mindedly with my necklace, the butterfly my father gave me when he married my mother, his logic, as always, had been simple, I am a package set with my mother, propose to one, propose to the other. It didn't take this necklace or his choice of deep and flowery words, I knew him better than I knew Eddie. Eddie, my biological father, I feel the assault of tears prick my eyes. I have never forgotten Ed, he's my father, yet Gil, he IS my father. Ed was rarely around, not for my birth or first birthday, first bicycle, first day of school and such, none of that did he participate in or even witness. No every landmark I spent with Gil, if Gil wasn't there it wasn't important, and now Gil's always here. Father approaches me and wraps me in his embrace, resting his chin on my shoulder, in the mirror we are both looking into I can see his watery strife.
"Butterfly," he sniffs. Butterfly rarely has he called me anything else, I have always been his butterfly, mother his ladybug, and to mother and I, Gil has always been Bugman, among other impressive things. "I love you so much. I can't believe you're leavening us." I had to laugh at my father's over reaction. Leaving?
"God, Daddy, I'm just getting married."
"Just?" my mother says approaching.
"It's not like I'm leavening for outer space." I tell them, trying to put a pleasant spin on it. Mother and father just sniff and dramatically wipe their eyes; they proceed to fawn over me in anticipation for my aisle walk to eternity.
We stand together, my father and me waiting for out cue. I can feel his joyful sadness as he stands next to me, my hand in the crook of his arm. I turn to him.
"Thank you for everything." I say the speech I had in my head moments ago didn't transfer to my lips and my unadulterated thanks remains deaf upon them.
"You're welcome for everything." He replies, trying to make light the situation, yet I can see a crystal tear fall from his eye. I wipe it away and pat his face, he smiles. The first cords of Cannon in D ring out, breaking the spell, and I feel my father snap back together and in a few short minutes we are heading down the aisle to the ooooohs and awwwws of the guests. When we reach the alter father kisses my forehead, and I his cheek , he then gives Andrew a smile and shoots him a thumbs – up before returning to the seat by mother. As I look at the man I love I wish and pray that he and I get as lucky as mom and dad. I want as many wrinkles as I can get, for wrinkles only go where the smiles have been.