Wednesday, 10 November 2010

Wedding Photo (Storypraxis prompt)

It was an odd day - odd but good. Everything had come together, despite her new in-laws' misgivings. It was a D-I-Y wedding. She'd made her own dress and those of her three bridesmaids. Her mother had made her own outfit and her new son-in-law's shirt and suit; and she'd also been responsible for making the cake, something that had worried her for weeks. Now that it was done and on the table she had a distinctly smug air, as if to say "I always said it'd be fine!" The catering was being taken care of by the church members and the immediate family. The sandwich-making production line had been in full swing the night before, and even her step-gran had got in on the act. One of her brothers-in-law to be was filming the ceremony, and the photography was the responsibility of her aunt.

It was cold outside the Church on the lawn, but the photos had to be taken, and at least the sun was shining. She wished that she'd made her bridesmaids' dresses out of something thicker than summer cotton, as she saw her best friends shivering while they waited to be called for their portraits. The list was gradually ticked off, and eventually it was the turn of the happy couple with the bride's parents. It was a standing portrait, the couple in the centre, flanked by her mum and dad. Shots were reeled off, the next set of people were called forward, and the photographs were all but forgotten.

A week or so after their return from honeymoon, her aunt called them to let them know that the pictures were ready to be viewed, so they arranged a time, and were soon avidly re-living the day. They eventually got to the photos taken with her parents. Somehow, they had managed, un-noticed, to pose looking not just ot of the picture, but in opposite directions to each other, as if scanning far horizons for enemy ships. They could never do anything straightforward or ordinary, those two.

Mary Parker, houswife, daughter; fondly remembering departed parents.

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