Entitled

V E N T I S E I - R E D

"Strange how we decorate pain."

- Margaret Atwood

Third person

Italian weddings are infamously notorious for being grand and memorable mostly because Italian's are so passionate about their famiglia and it's a great opportunity to gather together to celebrate another of their traits, love over wine and food.

Oh what an occasion.

A white veil occasion.

Despite the restrictions and tight security the glamour and glee didn't lessen it's vigor. The children led a mission to finish the cake even before the celebrations started, the men were drunk on expensive wine and love. Forgetting every disagreement they stood together laughing in joy for their Don's wedding.

The flowers glistening in the sweet sunlight almost smiling in approval. The cold season was tackled by the warm hearts and their happiness today. The aisle crisp and clean waiting for the bride to grace it.

The arch way glimmering with blessings of the gods and ancestors. Some women sitting on the cozy couches and chatting away to their hearts content, some others fretting over their children and husbands, some ordering around the helpers to make sure that the grand occasion is met with all the expectations.

After all this is the wedding that has been planned since years, so the anticipation is kind of expected.

These are the people who have seen a little boy of eleven falling irrevocably in love with a little girl even before he knew how to fall asleep. They have seen a fifteen year old losing his mind and going on a rampage without a care because his wife was attacked.

Yes, he addressed her as his wife even in the fragile age where nothing was permanent. If he was ever sure of anything then it was this moment, he knew that this was his reality.

They have seen his madness, his weakness. They have also respected his unpredictable and unforgettable love.

They have seen his bullying ways in his teenage naivety, when all he wanted was her every attention and intention all to himself and no one else.

He wanted to steal her from the air that surrounded her. He was jealous of the breeze that ruffled her hair when he couldn't.

Oh he was a force to be reckoned with back then, even now when it involved her.

She's not a luxurious indulgence in his life, she's a necessity. like the air he breathed, like the water he drank, like the life he led.

It's a miraculous emotion and everyone acknowledged that it's not written in every destiny. So they respected it despite the demonic envy.

Envious because they probably cannot ever experience something as unadulterated as love. It's a religion that had many followers but a very few devotees.

Isn't it really the best feeling in the world? To love and be loved in return?

To be so much in love that coldest of winters can't freeze your heart.

It's beautiful if you ask me and also rare.

Oh so rare.

And lucky are those who are blessed enough to experience it even once. All the heartbreaks and kissing the frogs are worth it if it guarantees this kind of love. The cupid's arrow kind of love, the poetic kind. The love kind.

Where you lose yourself in their hugs and they are your heaven. You tighten your hold on them unknowingly as if to remind their souls that they belong with you and you with them. A chat between celestial beings.