There’s nothing wrong with living in the past. All of my creditors do. – L. Oliver Bright
Lost limbs. Lost loves. Nowhere to rub balm on phantom pain. - Lee Allen Hill
ALWAYS THE BRIDESMAID
I pressed the blue chiffon into the box, the last of four different bridesmaid’s gowns from four different weddings of four different friends. At the last wedding, after one too many margaritas, my mother had introduced me as “my daughter Celia, always the bridesmaid, you know.”
I shook off the memory, and thought instead of the four different divorces, not one of them easy, kind, or painless. Slapping a length of tape across the lid, I sealed away the dresses, along with the sadness they’d evoked.
The bedroom beckoned and I shed my clothes as I stepped through the door. My latest lover was snoring softly, still wrapped in the crumpled sheets from our lovemaking. I slipped into bed and snuggled up against him. With a contented sigh, I smiled and thought, “NEVER the bride.” - Gloria Adams