The Humdrum Life of a Hero

8 Years Since

The chapel doors open wide, revealing a whole swath of people decked out in their Sunday best even though it's Saturday. They stand when the music begins to play. That's my cue, I think to myself.

As I watch the others start to walk down the aisle ahead of me, I catch Jay's eye up on the altar. He looks so handsome in a gray suit with a teal blue tie and vest. His usually unkempt hair was obviously trimmed this morning, on my command of course, and is now slicked to the side. I scan the others up on the altar just to make sure they look their best. Tony looks nervous and a little hungover. Connor and Nick, who are both around 6'2" now and who both tower over me, thankfully had the sense this morning to tape Connor's glasses back together after Nick whacked him with the serving spoon at last night's rehearsal dinner. Thank God those two are headed off to college soon. I'm not sure I'd be able to continue to feed them otherwise.

And I thought Tony was terrible when he was eighteen, but the twins definitely gave him a run for his money.

Bridgette and Heather, both clad in in one-shoulder, teal dresses that match everything from the flowers to the napkins, begin to march down the aisle. Bridge cut her hair about a year ago to shoulder length after her and Heather's son, Wendel, started the dreaded hair pulling phase. The kid who's almost two now practically ripped an entire handful of Bridge's hair out on his first try. Speaking of Little Man himself, I can hear him babbling up on the altar, pulling on Jay's pant leg. Wendel, being the only little boy any of us knew of, is currently serving as our ring bearer, but from my position, I can tell that he's no longer in possession of the pillow with the ring on it, which is probably a very, very good change of events.

When Bridge and Heather are safely up on the altar, I fix my dress with one hand while I fix Georgia's hair with the other. Her dark brown hair has started to curl over her ears, and her dark brown eyes are trained on me. "Pretty," she reaches out for my necklace and says. I grab her hand and she wraps her tiny little fingers around my index finger.

"You ready, pretty girl?" I ask her while someone hands me her flower girl basket. I give her the basket to hold while I adjust my grip on her. For being almost three, she's a tall little thing. She's in the 90th percentile for height fro her age. Tony says she's going to make a great basketball player one day.

We trek down the aisle while Georgia throws petal here and there and everyone gazes at us. I help her towards the end of our walk because she seems to have completely lost interest in the activity, and when she sees Tony up on the altar, she immediately throws out her arms and squeals, "Daddy!"

The congregation laughs, but when the wedding march becomes just a little louder, I take my place up on the steps as the maid of honor and flower girl wrangler and watch as Miranda, her brown hair softly curled and her brown eyes enhanced with teal blue eyeshadow, is escorted down the aisle by her father. Her dress hugs her every curve, and, well, she looks absolutely stunning.

I glance at Tony who's trying, not very discreetly, to wipe away his tears.

After graduating high school, Tony went off to Notre Dame to play football, while Miranda went off the Penn State. They broke up because neither of them could handle a long distance relationship, and when they both graduated college and wound up back home for the summer until they found jobs, they reconnected and both just happened to be single at the time. They hadn't been dating too long, maybe six months, when Tony announced he got a job as a talent recruiter for the Colts and Miranda announced she was pregnant.

They decided not to have shotgun wedding for a multitude of reasons the first being that it was beyond tacky and the second being that Miranda didn't want to be huge in her wedding dress. So, they had Georgia and moved into a house not too far from where we all grew up.