Eight years ago today, I was sitting in my office going about my work on an ordinary day. My cell phone rang and the ordinary day turned into an extra ordinary day.

I have two children…a son and a daughter.  My son was already married, however, my daughter had not yet married. They were wise children and waited until their 30s to marry…and, I think they found the “right” spouse.

After having said this, you might guess the gist of the phone call. It was my daughter from St. Lucia. She had just gotten married. It wasn’t a surprise, as such. She had known her young man for some time. I guess I thought there would be a formal wedding but whatever she chose was fine with me. After all, she was grown and supporting herself.

She let me know that the Mayor had served as best man; and a hotel employee had been her matron of honor. The photos were lovely when I received them and the only one that made me feel sad was the one of her in her beautiful wedding gown walking out alone to meet her destiny as a wife and eventually a mother.

Calling his mom, I asked what she had worn to the wedding…that I had on blue jeans. I am not certain she thought I was too funny. I think she was upset. She said he was her youngest and had expected to have a big wedding; my reply was that she was my only daughter and that I respected their choice.  There wasn’t much else to say.

I have chosen not to post a photograph.

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