Wearing a purple dress in the third row

Where did we get this tradition of a frilly white dress, groomsmen, rose petals, and uncomfortable shoes. Why do we have it? I have watched my friends fall one by one to the tradition so foreign to me, that I wonder did I miss something? There was never any talk of weddings growing up. No pictures of ceremonies, or white dresses. There were no stories of an amazing day where girls become women.

Where did the world come up with a tradition so foreign to me.

It’s beautiful, I must say. Exotic in a foreign way. It is something others do. Like a photograph that will never have me in it.

Does love need pink bridesmaids and garter belts? Does love need bachelor parties, and good whiskey?

The sun was drizzling through the green canopy of the ancient ancenstors that shaded the fifty quiet guests who sat as witnesses to the new beginning. We waited. The violins played, the birds chirped, and I sat in my purple dress in the third row, among the pink ladies, and the black bow ties. Family members and friends gasped as the girl we used to know walked before us as a woman. I saw it too, I saw it as she looked at the audience and smiled at us. There were tears, and laughter, but for me there was just this uncontrollable urge to stand up an yell “You go girl!”

It was in that moment I realized that there wasn't any other place I would rather be than right there as my good friend shared her love for those around her. So really, who cares whether a tradition is right or wrong, pink or purple, awkward or relevant, it’s just important to tell each other how much we love them.

To my friend
In all her radiant glory.
I love you.