If this past weekend is any indication of my emotional stability at weddings, when my daughters get married I'm going to be a mess. A joyful mess.
My two oldest daughters were the flower girls for the wedding, and they performed their duties with grace, dumping the extra petals that they hadn't tossed during their walk down the aisle at the groom's feet. Guests loved this.
Well played, girls, well played.
The moment when the bride appears and everyone rises is when I always look to the groom. I love to read his face, to watch as his eyes brim with tears as she approaches.
Throughout the weekend I kept thinking about how Joel will eventually have to walk three girls down the aisle. He'll eventually have to dance three father-daughter dances. As I stood at the edge of the dance floor and watched the bride dance with her father, it made me suck in my breath. How do you feel when you're watching your little girl get married? You know that the day is coming, but when you see her as radiant bride and place her hand in her husband's, how do you hold it together?
Because when you see your girl all grown up, you still probably can remember this:
As parents of young children our days are long, but watching the parents of the bride and groom reminded me that the years are short.
Now they're flower girls. I'll blink and they'll be brides.