This is the first major essay I had to write for my English class. I was responding to the following prompt: "Stories, movies and books often talk about the importance of loyalty and friendship. Tell about a time in your life when friendship and loyalty proved to be of great importance to you. Tell the story of how and when this had a significant impact on you." This was to be a descriptive narrative essay so it was supposed to be heavy on details. I took a bit of creative license with some of the details, and there is soooo much missing from this, but the main sentiment behind it remains the same. I love these women, whether I talk to them every day or every month, or yearly, or only message on Facebook occasionally.

                                                                Bridesmaids

        It is a truth universally known that a girl’s wedding day is supposed to be perfect.  It is good to know that when the universe forgets that truth, her bridesmaids do not.  In ancient times, bridesmaids were chosen to protect the bride, from evil spirits, or from larcenous clans looking to steal her away.  I chose Griffin, Kristen, Jillian, Heather, and Jill to stand at my side and be my support and companions as I entered a new stage of my life.  I had also unwittingly chosen the fiercest defenders of my perfect day.

      I woke up that early November morning expecting to look out the window and see a day fit for a Disney princess.  The sun would be shining, making the foliage of the New England autumn as vibrant as a Technicolor movie.  Birds would be chirping joyfully as they flit past my window, celebrating a beautiful day…my wedding day.  The reality I gazed out upon was the complete opposite.  I saw wet.  Everything was wet. It was becoming wetter. I was watching the skin chilling drenching of a New England rainstorm in the fall.  The birds that should have been chirping and flitting, were huddled in their nests, their songs drowned out by the harsh smack of raindrops on leaves.   As the water streamed from the grey sky outside, my eyes filled up reciprocally and I let out an involuntary wail that woke Griffin, my maid of honor. It was at her house that I had spent the night as we observed that strange tradition of separating the groom and his bride on the night before the wedding. Griffin is not a morning person, and being startled awake by a pitiful wail was not her preferred alarm clock, so rather grumpily she joined me at the window. “It’s raining.” She was very matter of fact when she made this statement.  I immediately started sniffling and whining, “It’s not supposed to rain! I’m going to get muddy! We can’t take pictures outside! My day is ruined!” Her response to this was classic Griffin. She smacked me on the back of my bobby pin covered head (which hurt) and stated, “It’s 9 am. I haven’t had coffee yet, you’re making your eyes puffy, and everyone knows that a bit of rain on your wedding day is good luck.  Now quit your whining, and let’s go get some coffee.” She walked out and just like that, she put a spin on the first crisis of the day.

       By 11, both of us had been caffeinated, showered, (my hair was still in pins awaiting the hairdresser), and we were on our way to my aunt’s house to meet up with the rest of my bridal party. My mood was lightened by the sight of the sun and patches of blue sky fighting their way clear of the clouds. Blackstreet’s “No Diggity” was pounding out on the radio and both Griffin and I were car dancing and singing along at the top of our lungs. The sight of the rest of my bridal party waiting for us was enough to lift my spirits completely: Kristen, my sister, we were just learning to like each other beyond the sibling rivalry that had been such a part of our past; Jillian, the pagan of our group who I always admired for her ability to defend her beliefs; Jill, a close friend from high school with the most amazing red hair and green eyes; and Heather, the quirky woman I had befriended at work.  For the next hour or so, we giggled and laughed, told stories and “remember when’s” and took pleasure in the company of each other as we waited for the hairdresser to arrive to do our hair.

              The hairdresser never showed up.  By one thirty, Griffin and Heather were taking turns calling her but to no avail.  I was in full blown panic mode. The limousine was going to be there at 4:30 and the photographer was on his way, and we didn’t have our hair done yet! Jill and Kristen started calling beauty parlors in the area trying to find a place that could squeeze me in to their immediate schedule. Griffin, a wonder woman with a curling iron, told me that she would take care of the bridal party hair, and Jillian took it upon herself to calm me down out of the anxiety attack I was experiencing. She kept up a mantra, that echoes in my head to this day in times of stress, “Breathe in sunshine. Exhale smog.”  Over and over she repeated this.  Breathe in sunshine. The sun is now shining. Exhale smog. This too shall pass. We have got this. We are together and we can overcome. She brought me back.

             By that time, Kristen and Jill had been successful. Out of all the shops in town, there was only one that could fit me in..... the shop that did all the elderly women’s hair in town.  I was out of choices, so I headed out to the geriatric hair salon.  Fast forward two hours and I was back with my hair done. My ladies were momentarily stunned into silence upon seeing the bouffant beehive that had been created upon my head.  All I could do was laugh at this point, and they all hugged me and assured me it was not nearly as bad as I imagined. After all, I had a veil.  I looked at them and was just amazed at what I saw. They all looked amazing. Griffin had somehow finished all their hair (and her own) and they were dressed in their matching black ensembles. They looked exactly as they were: strong, beautiful, vibrant, and confidant young women.  In a flurry of last minute activities, we finished getting dressed. The photographer darted around the room, documenting my last hours as a single woman.  We all teared up as we looked at ourselves as a group.

             Finally, it was time to leave. We piled into the black stretch limousine that was to bring us to the reception hall.  As the car set off, Heather started to sing, “Going to the chapel and we’re/ gonna get married.” One by one we all joined in, until our six voices blended into perfect harmony. The stresses of the day melted away as we sang together. Then the limo driver got lost. In the final rescue of the day, Jill and Heather got him situated back on the right route to my destiny.  I remember looking around that limo and thinking about all the love it contained. Biologically, only one of these amazing women was my sister, but love and friendship and loyalty had bonded all of us together so that we were all soul sisters. I was overwhelmed with the love and support that they had shown me on this day. As the Spice Girls anthem, “Say You’ll Be There” came over the radio, I poured out a bottle of champagne from the limo’s wet bar and proposed a final toast.  “To us. To sisters.”