Shouldn't…but Do

It was the only day that particular song ever got stuck in my head. Repeating over and over despite attempts at banishment. 19 years ago.

It was the theme song to “Woody Woodpecker,” and it was my wedding day.

I got married in an arboretum, botanical garden sort of place. Smallish affair, 50 or so people. Two big tents, cake was chocolate decadence, topped with irises.

Forecast was perfect, robin’s egg blue sky. Guests assembled, ready to commit and the minister whispered “shall we move the ceremony?”

From nowhere, the western sky had produced an impressive squall, lightening sweeping across the valley headed for our location. It was perfect.

Torrential mountain downpour, I wondered if the aluminum tent poles would make good lightening rods. Guests huddled and hastily, but politely, retreated as soon as socially acceptable.

Champagne and rain, I pranced atop the soaked seating in a drizzle, laughing. People thought I was nuts, still do.

Woody never bothered me again. The wedding dress and hair piece were hermetically packaged to last forever, tulle, silk and freshwater pearls sealed to resist ravages of time and emotion.

At least until last week, in the closed, stuffy garage when I poked airholes in the dress box with a dandelion digger and put both the dress and the hair piece out for the garbage – separately, of course – to avoid further unholy alliance.

Was there a more eco-friendly means of disposing of these things? Sure, it wasn’t their fault. But sometimes you just have to get rid of stuff. Give it some breathing room and send it on its way.

Today I take my children to meet with X and a family therapist for the first time, their relationship is not so good. It’s the waiting room for me.

Scanning the skies today, hot and humid. A convective storm later if we’re lucky. There was no rainbow 19 years ago, maybe there will be today.