Introduction: At the Crossroads

At the Crossroads

Just wishing and hoping and thinking and praying
And planning and dreaming, his kisses will start
That won't get you into his heart
So if you're thinking how great true love is
All you gotta do is hold him and kiss him
And squeeze him and love him
Just do it and after you do
You will be his.                                               --Dusty Springfield (Wishing and Hoping)



I sat at the piano, waiting for my father.  I've written a lot of songs about love and loss and heartbreak to get here.  And now it's my turn to be happy.  I think most women want this, and dream of this day, but I was afraid for a long time.  Afraid that once I finally got everything I ever wanted, that it still wouldn't be enough.  But like Garth Brooks, today I was thankful for unanswered prayers.  If I had actually gotten what I always wanted, when I thought I wanted it most, I wouldn't be here today.
My father came into the room and placed his hand on my shoulder.  "Sweetie, it's time.  Everyone is waiting for you."  I rose from the bench and turned around.  "You look amazing.  Just as beautiful as I remember your mother looking on this day when we got married."

"Thank you Daddy.  Can you help me with my veil?"  I knew that as the first of his daughters to get married that this moment must be difficult for him.  I smiled as he pulled the gauzy film over my face.  "I'm doing the right thing, aren't I?"  I asked more in an effort to reassure myself, but I wanted someone to tell me it was okay.

My father looked me square in the eye.  "Yes, Violet.  You are doing the right thing.  You always have."  I picked up my bouquet from the top of the piano.  My dad held out his elbow, and I wound my arm into his.  All of the bridesmaids, my maid of honor, and flower girl were already halfway down the hall of the church.  We hung back from the windows and let the rest of the procession make it's way to the front of the sanctuary.  Two friends from church closed the doors behind our flower girl, Chelsea.  Dad and I stood behind the doors in silence, waiting for the music to change for our march. 

I anticipated the sweet strains of the violin to begin Canon in D, but what I heard instead was the strum of an acoustic guitar.  Not realizing that they had the wrong musical cue, our friends swung open the doors to the sanctuary.  Every guest rose to attention, and the entire bridal party was positioned at the front of the church, just as we had rehearsed the night before -- except for one glaring change in the lineup.  Instead of the violinist that I had hired, there was a tuxedo-clad cowboy in his place.  I stood paralyzed to my spot.  I could not believe this was happening to me! 

"Violet," my dad whispered, "are you okay?"  I couldn't speak.  I couldn't move.  I couldn't think a coherent thought.  I stared and blinked, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.  Then the cowboy started singing:

          Our love is unconditional
          We knew it from the start
           I can see it in your eyes
          You can feel it from my heart
          From here on after
          Let's stay the way we are right now
         And share all the love and laughter
         That a lifetime will allow

Sawyer, my handsome groom, had been poised at the edge of the aisle with a wistful smile on his face.  When I didn't move forward after a few bars, he took matters into his own hands and quickly strode in my direction.  "Violet, what's the matter honey?"  His voice betrayed the anxiousness he felt.  "I asked him to come.  He wanted to do this for us.  It's okay.  It's our song, honey."  I blinked furiously and attempted to process his words, but my mind had vacated its residence.  He stepped to my left and took my arm.  Somehow I found the will to lift my feet and make it to the front of the church. 

As I stood there, Sawyer on one side and my dad on the other, I struggled to make sense of it all.  I had to go back to the beginning because I  couldn't remember how I'd gotten to this place.  Let me take you with me.