And I will be nervous. It will be my wedding day. I expect lots of tears will flow. I expect I’ll be a wreck, a ball of nerves, an elated, butterfly-stomached girl.
A girl. I’ll feel like I’m not mature enough, ready enough, woman enough to be a wife. A mother. A soul mate.
But then I’ll see the groom. I’ll see the guy who found me not just in a dimly lit tavern, but found me at one particular moment in my life. That the urge to say hello, to approach me and then to call and get to know me.
I’ll see my future. I’ll see the future father, current love, caring friend, perfect person for me.
And the butterflies will fly away, the tears will dry, the nerves will cease to exist. I’ll step up the altar. My maturity will collect, I’ll stand tall. I can do this. I want to do this.