Life Sketch

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"Hey, we should get a picture."

"Of course! Let's do it over here."

"Um no, I want one just of you. I want to remember you here. Go stand over there, towards the end."

Am I blushing? Branon never asked to take pictures of her. She was thrilled. But as she tiptoed toward the edge, she heard rustling behind her. Branon had taken off the backpack and was rummaging through it. She turned as she neared the edge, and found him walking toward her. Maybe he wants a picture together after all? But his right arm was straight as a board, his fist shoved deep into his pocket. His eyes were wide as he walked toward her, and his voice was shook as he got down on one knee in front of her and said, "Rachel. I love you, and I really can't wait to marry you...."

The music began, and Brigette's bridesmaids glided out of the bride's room. Brigette closed her eyes as they stepped down the grand staircase, breathing deep as she listened for her cue.

There it was.

Here we go.

She emerged from the room, a wave of sparkling silk.  She looked first to her side. There stood her father, his arm outstretched. He smiled as she took it and whispered, "You look beautiful."

Brigette's eyes pivoted to the bottom of the stairs, and welled with tears as she saw Michael waiting for her under their arch. His face, those eyes … she had looked at them, treasured them, for months. And today, she found such an expression of gratitude, of anticipation; of desire, excitement, and hope. It was the face of love. Of love and commitment, of a man who wanted her to be his, forever.

She stepped carefully down the grand staircase to him.