Engagements and Weddings

Midges are running rampid in Daytona, right now--Claire and I picked up the flier today outside of our room. They, thankfully, don't drink blood although they do resemble mosquitoes. We picked up the flier on our way in from dinner. At Bubba Gumps to celebrate my birthday I enjoyed shrimp, but not Forest Gump trivia which I always win. Claire told the waitress it was my birthday and she came with a sundae and then demanded that I stand and dance. Really, I thought, stand and dance. My face got hot, my glasses steamed in the left corner and in my head I got up and did a jig, but in real life my heavy thighs pressed to the vinyl seat and I felt embarrassed.

The first year I was in Daytona I had the sensation of empowerment that I've not felt as strongly since. When I first got to my hotel room, I had the sudden realization that I could do anything I wanted. For what was maybe the first time in my life I didn't have anyone else to help me figure out what to do or where to go. It was intoxicating, almost, but also a bit frightening. Once in a while I have the feeling that I could wander off--take the money I had on me and travel somewhere alone. Be a totally free person. Of course, then I shake the feeling and come back to what is my reality. I have family. A life that I love.

Yet, that first time in Daytona I didn't have the feeling of family. I had friends, and I had Witt, but we weren't married, so the attachment, though very realy wasn't set in stone. The first evening I went to the beach I sat on my towel for a long time. The beach is always more romantic in my head. When it comes down to it, and the sand is in the crevices of my rolls and I have to shake out my hair, I'm not really a fan of it. But something possessed me that evening to jump into the ocean. I got in full force and left my glasses and engagement ring with my book on the beach.

The water and the waves were strong, and when I got out I was disoriented. My things weren't enough of a marker to help me (everyone had white beach towles and books), so when a nice lady pointed out my belongings , I felt silly. In one fell swoop I had picked everything up and went back to my room.

Later that evening, I was eating with my new friends Lisa and Karin. Karin had just gotten married, and Lisa engaged. They were actually comparing their rings, and talking about plans that seemed foreign to me since I had already decided I would have small wedding. I looked down at my ring to notice it was missing. My face went white, and I ran to the beach. Fast.
Of course when I got there the chairs were gone as was any other marker I could have used for where I had been.

The girls had followed me down to the beach and were with me when I burst into tears, listening to the first bars of "Money Can't Buy Me Love."
When I called Witt, in my room, I was heaving with sobs. "I-I-I-l-l-l-l-lo-lo-lost-lost-mah-mah-mah-my-r-r-ring. " He couldn't understand me, and when I had calmed down enough to say it, he was relieved, I think, that I hadn't been attacked.

The next year, I walked the beach, but knew better than to trust it with my things. I was older, wiser, and Heidi was with me. We looked out at the sand and I pointed to the castle area where the band had been. A distant story that we could laugh about. My ring with the tiny diamonds and crescent sapphires was long gone.

After that week I drugged myself with Dramamine to suffer the plane ride home. The lack of sleep and drugs had caught up with me when I landed in Springfield and stumbled toward the baggage claim. When I saw my family, I thought I was hallucinating, They must have thought they were too, as they grabbed me and posed with me for pictures. I'm sure they never show those shots to anyone because my frizzy hair and bleary eyes were shocked beyond belief.
My dad and his fiance smiled, and inquired about my trip in Florida. As I explained that my bags were waiting, it occurred to me to ask about what they were doing in the airport. My dad, as far as I knew had never flown anywhere.

"We're going to Las Vegas" they explained, "to get married."

There's that song in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, "When You Get Married in June" all about how women swoon to be married in the summer month, yet I never equate June with marriage. For me, marriage will always be the fall--the grass freshly cut under my bare feet, the smells of late summer and early fall melding together in my nostrils. A sweating glas filled with peach margarita, and Witt's steady hand and unwavering gaze as we repeated our vows under a tree just beginning to turn.