Catch of the Day

Music has always been quick to penetrate my heart and mind. Without realizing it, I often tag moments in my life while listening to a song. Later, when I hear that song again, I am immediately taken back to a random, but always significant moment in my life. So much happens to a person in thirty years of living, and I am always so thankful for these little glimpses into otherwise forgotten moments. Today, I found the CD we used as a sort of soundtrack for our wedding ceremony. As I listened to it, I was flooded with memories from that day. Regretfully, I know there are so many things I don't remember. Out of those that I do, my "catch of the day" would have to be the five minutes that revolved around a drop of black cherry soda that escaped a can and landed on my dress...my unblemished, perfect wedding dress.

Shaun and I were alone with my parents in the fellowship hall of the church where our reception had just taken place. All of the remaining guests were standing outside waiting to pelt us with heart-shaped, bird and earth-friendly candy as we ran to our getaway truck. The moment was already a cumbersome one for me. I am a person who does not like to be overwhelmed by emotion when there is an audience present, and here we were at the end and beginning of a day that would seem to divide my life into two halves. Even now there are too many metaphors, too many words that could have been said at that moment to the parents who gave me life and taught me how to live it abundantly. In the most bittersweet way, they were giving me away. As a parting gift, my mom handed me a six-pack of black cherry shasta, a tradition she had started when Shaun and I were dating and would leave their house. Mercifully, one of the cans had a leak, and a tiny drop of deep, red soda dropped onto my dress as I took the cans from her. I couldn't breathe for a moment. All of the emotion I had been feeling was now concentrated onto this intruder. What happened next I will never forget. Somehow, seemingly without leaving my side, Dad produced a napkin, which he meticulously began to fold into a very tight triangle. With a steady hand, he touched the very tip of the instrument he had fashioned to the tiny drop. Instantly, it seeped into the napkin, leaving no trace on my gown. I can easily recall how amazed I was. Just as he had done so many times when I was a little girl, he had swooped in and "made it better." It seemed like a small incident at the time, but it has stuck with me all this time as one of my favorite memories of my father. The next five minutes should have been more memorable, but it's all a blur as I struggle to remember them. I know we ran out of the church through raining candy because I have seen pictures. I know Shaun's truck was destroyed by a crazed bridesmaid who should never be allowed to touch bananas or junior mints again. I know the truck read, "Just Married," but only because you could still see the words on the side of the truck at the right angle even a year ago when Shaun finally sold it. Yet it is the drop of cherry soda that stuck with me. The very next solid memory I have is the silence in Shaun's truck broken by his simple introduction, "Hello."