Brighter than the shade of rubies in my ears, deeper than the scarlet smeared on my lips, richer than the aged merlot in my glass, is the love my crimson heart carries for you after sixteen Christmases together.
I had three weeks’ notice to plan for the trip to see my sister become a wife, but it only took two days for the mailman to deliver my lace dress. I rummaged through my daughters’ and husband’s closets for something to match.
The ten-hour drive resulted in my children fighting over which movies to watch and who got to eat the last gummy shark. They also shared laughter from the bottom of their bellies.
In Toledo, the groom found the rings he lost, and I ran across a sheet of ice to collect the bouquets I forgot in the car. The bride smiled.
After two families tied a bow to become one, we celebrated with pasta and Peroni.
Ornaments hung from the spruce; twinkling lights on the roof; earrings dangling from my lobes; new polish painted on my toes; sequins weighing down my dress; borrowed cufflinks on his wrists; champagne fizzing in our cups; to eat, we have a roasted duck; parquet dance floor filled with friends: