Descending The Stairway

Tossing and turning the woman spun around in bed wrapping the sheets tightly around her body.  The strength of her loneliness exposing itself in the fetal position her body took as tears welled up in closed eyes.
That day the sun was shining through the stained glass windows, reflecting off the porticos and arches of the church. Mom helping me dress, hair and makeup.  I remember her hands shaking slightly as she looped each tiny satin button into the corresponding loop, tying me into my lace and satin gown.  The sun gathered around my hanging locks, framing my face like a halo. My lips glistening red as my mom touched them up. “You’re magnificent” she said.  The shoes strapped snugly at my ankles, deep red toenails delicately expressing my feet as a thin gold anklet glistened around the edge of my strap.
The woman staring at me in the mirror was radiant. Her life a pinnacle of beauty intertwined in love and expectation. Today she was going to marry her one and only Brian. The struggles, the love they have shared. It seemed so short a time they stood near here watching her mom weep as her father was buried right here, this church. They had decided to hold off the wedding while everyone mourned. He had work so hard to fill that hole left by her father. Her mom, just now able to enjoy life. Today was their day to rejoice! She moved her hand to her chest lightly as a small skipped beat escaped her heart. The woman in the mirror slowly let a smile spread on her face.
The windows in the bedroom already dark with evening, began to stain with droplets of rain, cascading one drop growing in length and strength as more overtook the window. The mild weather of late fall was trying to fight the impending cold of Winter. Transparency reduced to dark translucent curls and waves of water. The red moon lit up the reflection as red drops trickled down the glossy pane.
“I think you’re ready honey” Bethany’s mom said, she motioned and exclaimed to her sister in the room. Betsy looked up and her breath was caught up “Oh Bethany!” she said “The sun on your face, you’re radiant.” She felt a lump form in her throat at that moment “Am I?” she quietly asked catching herself short and choking up a bit. “Oh no honey” mom quickly jumped in “Don’t cry! Your makeup, you look absolutely gorgeous. “I’m trying mom” a tear slipped past her eye, and gathered steam while it made its way down her cheek. “It’s just that I’ve waited so long for today. I so wish Dad could be here.” No one answered or said much after. Her mom looked down, and they both noticed her cheeks reddened.  “He, he would have loved nothing more than to see is eldest daughter marry the love of her life.” She barely finished, and her voice cracked and faded off into silence.
The woman turned back the other way, a peal of lightning lit up the room.  Her eyes didn’t open, but her body literally jumped. Unknown to her some of that light appeared to fill the room. It moved slowly lightly moving about the bed, almost holding on to the person fitfully sleeping in it. After a time it metastasized around the feeble figure, wrapping her in the small wooden bed.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking out into the immaculate gardens of the church.  His baby blue tuxedo, perfectly pressed, cumberbund attached at his back, jacket hiding the slight sweat beginning to over come the small of his back. These last few months had been brutal on both his emotions and his health. Bethany hadn’t suspected such, but the stress of being the paternal leader had wreaked havoc on him. He noticed the fire of the sun had mixed with heavy dark clouds turning the sky into a surreal orange and amber likely to overtake the white light encompassing the beautiful white porticos of his beloved Cathedral.
He noticed that though the suit was tailored to him that he seemed uncomfortable, that familiar knot was forming in his neck. It encompassed his body almost as if a rope was binding him and something, or someone was pulling it tighter around him. Not that the suit was tight, but that he was tightening in it. As the windows dimmed, the white light slowly merged to a glow of amber and fire, he stared out the window trying to will the pain away.
The wind was howling outside, starting to overtake the confines of nature and its binding to the earth.  Leaves once attached were losing connection to their branches, gravel stones were spinning in small rotating fashion flying like saucers and throwing debris beyond their original plot of land.
Betsy moved to the edge of the room and with a light flourish opened one of the double doors, holding it with the base of her elbow, she stood stolid against the door, heaving a bit to leave a enough room for the fading light to shine in. Her mom moved behind to help with Bethany’s dress. She grabbed and bustled the train in her arms to help the glowing bride enter the cliff of the stair case.
Bethany took the first step toward the door being held open by Betsy, her mom followed behind as she constantly fought with the lace and statin from escaping her manicured fingers. The dress fought her, it tried to take hold of every perceived hook or knob on the way out of the room. She stepped gingerly at first, making sure her mom was ready behind her, and slowly gained confidence on the white and black shoes, the chunky heel provided some stability as each foot placed itself in front of the other, slowing taking her toward the steps, below which stood her love.
The wind roared and spun around the old home which held a barely sleeping occupant.  The old oak had fared for nearly a hundred years of storms, rain, floods, and sordid cold. Nothing had moved the mighty layers of wood which bore its age in rings wrapped by thick spindly bark. The exterior now curled and gnarled around the ancient tree seemed like a thin layer exposing a skin too fair for the storm. The weather began to turn to a bitter chill where a sudden front transformed the rain into liquid glass. A thin layer forming on all parts of the land, a liquid that grabbed hold of its charge and held tight while layering acute drops into a thickening bond.
Betsy waited about 30 seconds at the door, she was able to see both Brian at the bottom of the stairs while watching Bethany make her way to the landing.  Brian turned when he heard the light click of each heel connecting with the ancient oak floor.  Betsy watched expectantly as his face lit in expectation of seeing his bride walk down those glorious stairs. He smiled wide, seemed to grimace for the smallest second, and then in a large breath his eyes widened and he gleamed directly at Bethany the second she caught his eye.
She made her way to the edge of the landing and stopped to catch her breath. Before descending she need to stabilize all of herself from her shoes to her now shaky hands. She willed herself not to cry as she lifted her foot and moved it down toward the first step.  His stance exuded confidence and longing as he stared first toward Bethany and slightly unexpectedly moved to stare back out the window, the action though subtle was meant to be what appeared to Bethany as the last time she would stare at the back of the man. She happily imagined the symbolic gesture, her new husband would spin around and their eyes would meet once and forever.
She lit up in anticipation of her groom waiting anxiously for his bride to meet him at their stairway.
Betsy noticed it first, the quick way he turned away, something wasn’t right. She wanted to yell to him and Bethany, ‘wait!’ ’Something is wrong!’ But how could it be?  How could this day be tainted with sorrow? How could these stairs represent grief? They were here to change the perspective of their lives. This wedding was the family reuniting in front of God and His church, believing that the happiness of their love for each other would surpass the bonds of death and light the family’s way forward. “Brian”, she whispered to herself, “please don’t leave us.” She looked again, and saw his shoulders stoop in pain. Something was wrong. “Something is wrong!” She tried to scream to Bethany, her mom suddenly crying behind her, sobs shuddering her entire body. No sound escaped her lungs, she stood paralyzed, waiting for her sister to find out that today was not their day.
Bethany took another step down the stairs.
‘Click!’ He heard her step. ‘Click’ another, ‘she’s so close’ he thought. ‘I’ve never wanted anything more in my life!’ ‘Click’ ‘Click’ the steps were gaining in speed as she anticipated coming closer to him, but his mind was barely able to contain the explosion of pain he felt in his heart. He crossed his arms tight across his chest, begging the pain to stop, “hold off today please” he begged internally. Closing his eyes, they filled with the emotional pain he was trying to stave off. “Please Lord” he almost spoke it audibly “It’s our turn!”
The time seemed to pass slowly for the land, home, and gravel street.  The wind had slowed down, but with the cold replacing the rain, there was now the building of a layer of cold ice sheets on the limbs, branches, shingles, and driveway.  The ice gathered strength in each droplet of rain. From a far the picture looked serene, even beautiful, but upclose the danger increased, and no one watching this scene knew how the heavily weighted tree would survive the onslaught against its tired root system. The oak was nearing the end, everything and everyone in its path were now hanging in the balance.
She descended into the same floor where he was. The sky outside was churning, as though hell was trying to force it’s way into the gleaming white building. She  thought there was a problem when she saw him fold his arms, a lack of control, or possibly that his timing was off? Was his leg shaking? “Brian” she said as she stepped on off the stairs and could almost reach out and touch his form. “Brian!” she called louder.
He turned back to her, finally showing her a face wincing in severe pain, desperately trying to hold form for the one person he couldn’t live without.  “Bethany” he said in a slightly weezy breath, “Bethany I love you, the pain, my chest, I’m so sorry.” “Brian!” She shrieked and almost leapt the last step as his balance started to waver.”
The branch had shaded this house for 45 years, silently protecting it while slowly building up a small sore of dry rot, nothing dangerous at first, but mixed with wind, and ice turns deadly to a tree that can’t feed its limbs. The silent ice fell and built up while causing the weekest member to droop ever so silently toward the room on the second floor.
It was Betsy that watched in speechless horror as Brian collapsed into Bethany’s arms.  His breath coming in slow rasps, eyes tearing up in pain as his heart struggled to pump blood through a strangled artery.
 “Bethany”, he grasped at each word “I so wanted to marry you today” he choked a bit as her perfect face melted in an avalanche of tears. “The stress of these last 2 years, helping your mom, I” he hesitated, “I wanted to live with you forever.” “No,” she said, “No, you’ll be fine. Everything will be fine! Someone call 911 she bawled, Brian! Stay with me! Help help, OH GOD WHY!” “I desperately wanted to tell you I do” he said. “That night your dad died ripped us apart, it took me too, but don’t let it take you.” He sighed quietly at that, his eyes tilted up and away from her.  She screamed then, a cold chilling “Noooooo,” that turned to sobs as she kissed and held the lifeless form of her near husband on the floor. The very floor of the church where her mom buried her father 2 years before.
The sleeping woman suddenly woke, “Brian” she screamed, weakly, but audibly into the churning night. The form around her wasn’t Brian, but she felt the warmth of it. Her entire body lost its rigidity and a slow smile crept over her weekend face. It was at that point her eyes widened and softened as she silently said “after all these years.”
The sound of the cracking limb was audible to the home occupant, but silent all around.  The weight of the tree crushed the room and house like a knife cutting wet paper. The shear weight and force of the mass took out everything yet the light grew around the teeny form, the ice, melted, the tree shorn off as if white lighting struck a form slightly larger than the wooden bed where she slept those 70 years. The light was blinding to her, she found her strength awakening, while the blinding gave way to a gilded passageway adorning a set of very familiar double doors.
The rain and ice continued unabated for hours after, filling in the cracks and new voids now open due to the destruction of the home.
Bethany stood on her own two feet then, the sounds of wind and rain fading. The doors, so familiar yet so far. She started walking. The floor took on a grainy hue, and unbeknownst to her the ancient night clothes started to mold her body as her skin tightened around a once withered frame. Her hands plumped with youngness and moisture. Her feet once withered and racked with pain, grew stronger with each step. Her back, bent from years of sitting, straightened. She kept walking. The nightclothes now started spinning openings and designs, once fluid began to web themselves into satin and lace. Her withered breasts plumped and took the form once familiar those so many years ago. The train behind her grew, the flawless floor worked with her steps and she walked toward the doors.
Betsy struggled to walk through the old house, following the police officer to what was left of the old bedroom.  Her gnarled hands grasped the railing leading upstairs as her unstable steps were even more challenging due to the melting ice everywhere.  The police had been there for a while, and had hesitated to call her once they entered the bedroom.  “The most curious thing ma’am” the officer said.  “The tree burst through your sisters’ room at a high rate of speed, easy to see by the shape of this house. The ice must have been falling for hours.”
Betsy finally made it to the landing after struggling up the steps.  The floor was mostly caved in. All the earthly possessions of Bethany appeared to be destroyed.  The walls were bare, or were populated with stalactites of ice built up on hanging frames.  The old dresser, was a floor below smashed to total bits.  The entire room was demolished, But, she let out a gasp of shock when she finally made her way into what was left of the doorway.
Looking down at her feet she saw she was standing again at the edge of the same staircase. Her hands foreign to her, luscious and young. Once again beautiful and perfect. Skin once again tight and beautiful around her wrist. She looked over at herself, the picture of radiant beauty the feelings of excitement all coming back from those many many years ago.  The air was wispy and light, and her breath felt strong in her chest as she took a look down the ancient steps and gasped at who was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairway.
The bed was encased in ice, the sheets and blankets left in perfect form below the thin veneer, the pillows left shaped as though a single head was lying on them.  The four posts of the bed colored dark oak magestically showed their beauty though they too were encased under multiple inches of ice. Upon the bed laid a figure, not human, but details beyond perfect. The shape, the hands, and even the hair was indisputably those of Bethany, as if she laid down to sleep while allowing a master artisan to cut a form equal to her own. None of these details mattered to Betsy, because the form in the bed was an ice sculpture, clearly built from the body of her sister, but her sister was not apart of the crystallized form.  Bethany was gone.
“Have you ever seen anything like this before? The officer asked, “we have people already scouring the neighborhood to find your sister, though it’s a bit slow going due to all the ice.” Bethany took a while to answer, but slowly started to tell the officer that the search wouldn’t be needed.
There he was, standing there in his baby blue tux, all the youth and expectation of all those many years ago. She saw him turn toward her after she caught her breath at seeing him. “There you are.” He said, “I’ve been waiting for this day all my life, and it’s finally here.” “Brian, she said, as she ran down the stairs. Brian!” Although it felt like they were floating, she grabbed hold of him and they hugged and kissed for what felt like an eternity.
“You came back for me” she said as he let go of her lips for a moment. “I wanted to live with you forever”, he said “I just had to wait for you to come back to me.” They embraced and kissed again as the immaculate beauty of the place they stood made itself aware to both of them.
He looked at her after pulling away from her lengthy embrace, and pulled away for the smallest second, her lips still tasted like him and her eyes widened in panic for the slightest second. “Wait” he said, and his hand went into his breast pocket and pulled out their wedding bands. He took her hand, and slid the band over her glistening pearl nails onto her small waiting finger. After adding his band to his hand he looked back up to her with a laughing, healthy smile, and in pure joy he leaned over into her ear and said “I do.”

 

Photo Credit: lundress.com

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The Salutation

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Watching it all happen wasn’t a surprise, but it was painful, knowing what I knew.
She sat at her desk quietly working, he walked in and started toward her desk. She looked up slowly, caught his eye, and quickly said ‘hi’. He looked her way, responded in the same and continued on past her walking toward his desk.  The constant talking, friendship, texting words, hopes, dreams over the previous six months all hewn down into two small words.
It crushed her, and he was eternally angry, but none of that mattered anymore and they both continued on with their lives as if the other was never a part nor were they ever.
Morgan Werhen Copyright 2018
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Once and For All

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She smells like lilacs in the spring, where the fragrance over takes all the surrounding flowers and tickles the nose.
We were hugging now, the photo shoot almost over, but our lives together almost beginning.

He held on to me as I sank into his embrace.  Bending my arms and body into his chest allowing myself to lean into, almost feels like crawling inside him.  The warmth is intoxicating, his breath on my hair, my lips held off his chest but only to protect from the deep red glossing my lips.

Her earrings adorn her ears, and her hair is soft to my touch.  She nestles against me and lets me close my arms around her small waist. I can see her eyes smiling, she looks up at me and then softly closes her eyes as she relaxes against me.

“What am I going to do with him?” she thinks, this life of ours is about to begin, we were once just two people and now he and I together.

“How did I ever get her to say ‘Yes’” he wonders, though finding the beauty of her dress distracting as his eyes trace the buttons down her back, where the bustled skirt is straining against the captor holding it alight.

The photographer clicks a few more shots though without words as the two stand there together but one soul waiting to walk down the aisle and vow their forever love once and for all.

Image Credit: hellomuse.com

Keep Coming Back for More

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The heart wants what it wants, so it keeps crawling toward the very thing that destroys it.
The cliff is nearing, as the heart pulls closer to the abyss.
This story has been watched before, the mind screams “RUN!”
The body begs to be saved. The eyes wander. The hands feel.
The heart ignores all the obvious signs, emotions, sadness and whatever new horrors await.
The heart keeps on coming back for more.
Hopefully there will be a someone left after this turn on the road that has no end.

In Pieces

I remember being a whole. I was proper and genuine a real joy to be with.
My face was mostly smiling, or working toward a smile.
My hands flitted and fluttered about working ahead of my conversations including all the light words escaping with light wisps of delight.
I remember being a whole woman. I was alabaster and red mixed with blush. My dresses swished and my tops flowed. I wondered about as I flowed down the street. The pedigree of my me which populated my personality and it exuded around me without the need to say a thing.
I remember loving who I was.

elitedaily_girl_crying_in_bed_6-13-2018I remember loving the thought of love and knowing what that would feel like.

I remember being a whole.
I remember meeting you.
You relished me mostly but desired some change.
Too much color but not enough thread to make your version of my art.
Let’s not do this, but start changing that.
The parts of me you liked but tweaked and over time some over bending
caused parts of me to break.
I remember together, and starting to question if I was enough.
I remember being. I remember our us. I remember feeling, but realizing that your feelings weren’t the same.
I remember trying to fix me so your picture was right.
I remember  wondering why I needed to fix me when we were together.  The list of my wrongs was growing, as I tried harder to keep up with your demands. You seemed perfect, or so you thought. Your answers required my changes.
I remember bending, I remember breaking.
The requests and frustrations seemed to build, the weight continued to hold me down.
The pieces of me slowly faded from color to slate, possibly gray, but largely not recognizable as to what was there before.
The smiles and laughter seemed like faded memories, flowers closed petals fallen.
The swagger and smiles removed. Slow steps, muddy tracks, slodden, downtrodden a personality once floating, now unable to find a place to land.
The person I was replaced by me now.
I remember that I stopped remembering.
This morning I turned over and reached out to you in our bed, the stable piece of our land where silence ruled and where I remembered who we were, or what I wished we were to be when we were new.
I remember you not being there.
I remember being something, but nothing was left to make peace with, there was no ‘me’ anymore.
I couldn’t remember, I didn’t know. The piece left wasn’t me at all.
Image Credit: elitedaily.com
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Morgan Werhen
Copyright 2018

 

He Freed Me From the Constraints of my Heart

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He freed me from the constraints of my heart.
He took me from the isolation of my soul.
He removed me from the closet of my past.
He carried me from the danger of my youth.
He loved me with the fire of my emotions.
He needed me with the lust of my desire
He adored me with love of my mother.
He protected me with the strength of my father.
He left me with the hole from my adolescence.
He wounded me with weapon of loneliness.
He was taken from me with the speed of life.
I’m broken without him.
I’m desperate for him
I’m walking away from him.
“As the Lord Giveth, He also taketh away”
I left the cemetery with a heavy heart and a demolished soul.
Image Credit: theweddingscoop.com

The Road Less Taken?

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I didn’t ask for this.  This life.  I just thought I’d get up everyday and be normal, that I’d fit in.
I noticed a change in early middle school, not much, but mostly from the men, I’d get called on for questions, or I’d get noticed first when I lifted my hand to answer a question.
I never had trouble with grades, but I found that the grades started to find me quicker even though I wasn’t needing to work so hard for them.
I’ve never had the perfect responses to questions, I’ve never been on the ‘A’ list for whose the smartest in the class, but I’m certainly not dumb. I’m not someone to be trifled with in an argument. “Frankie will fight to the death” my best friend Sophie once said.
However, it seems over time that certain people started responded differently to some of my answers, but take other answers not as seriously.  “That theorem wasn’t your strongest Frankie”, or “historically speaking, I think Dan had a stronger argument about the chemicals involved.” “Yes, that paper showed how witty Mr. Darcy actually was!”
I liked it before honestly. I liked knowing that what I was or how I looked was never a part of the picture.
It’s not that way anymore. It may not be that way for a number of years or never?
I’m not complaining, I’m extremely happy with my life, but where I used to just prove myself, I now never will.  The assumption is now always the same.
I over heard a conversation I was never supposed to be privy too. I’m shocked by the statements, only for the fact that they were so bare, so truthful, and yet while I stood there, listening I realized my ’situation’ was much farther along than I had previously anticipated.  “She’s smart I think?” the teacher was saying. “Though, sometimes I have to first realize that she actually has the right answer before waving off what she is saying.” “It’s like my eyes can’t come to agreement with what my ears are hearing, and with no deal, my mind is left with confusion.”
I cried that day, and that night, not out of pity for me, but that my reality was altered as well.  I realized that evening that I was at a crossroads.
I had a decision to make, and although some would ‘say’ I was able to take both, it really only boils down to humanity and the decisions we decide to make while living amongst them.
Words are cheap, everyone, especially women in the educated sphere, will happily tell me not to fall in line with what my body is making an argument for.  You are a woman, hear yourself roar! Ignore the makeup, ignore the clothes, ignore the looks, and live your life.
I could have done that.
I went down the road of beauty, and love. Academics are still a part of my life sure, and I’ve done just fine in my High school and College years, but I certainly didn’t do them while trying to be a plain non feminine version of myself.
I happily embraced my womanhood and enjoyed my femininity!  I love my beauty, I have deep friendships with my girlfriends, and yes, I still was the Prom Queen.
Had I took the path of ‘smarts only’ I may have made something of myself, or possibly be the owner of a special skillset that no one cares to hear about.  However, I still have multiple special skillsets and love who I am, I know who I want to be and I happily acknowledge that neither of those decisions are in line with the popular culture’s desire to ‘fix’ my problem.
Last night, while prepping for my date, I caught myself in the mirror for a few seconds. It takes a while to ‘get ready’, but  I couldn’t be happier with that person in the mirror, I love her, and she is loved by many others.

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Is He a Something Or Am I a Nothing

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I sat in bed eyes wide open. The fairy dust of sleep not penetrating my mind enough. At least not enough to turn itself off.
The idea that there is someone I can’t possibly have. He’s so fun. He gets me. He writes back.
The relationship isn’t,  but sometimes I wonder.
The humor is constant but is it simply that?
He loves my music. Nothing more, nothing less,  but he constantly asks.
He notices things, though he notices things for everyone,  though it seems. No,  but yet it seems he notices more things about me.
I messed up once. His response totally expected, but, and this is what keeps me up. His response wasn’t negative, but he said, that the idea didn’t make sense. The funny part,  I asked because I’d love our company to take us both on a trip, he would be the fun one to travel with. But, he didn’t dispute that he wouldn’t enjoy said trip with me, just that it doesn’t make sense for him to go. Is he worried about the company I provide? Does it matter that I’m the one who suggested it? Or is it simply a case of a company man doing his thing for the man.
It’s just.
I don’t know.
When he’s around I do everything I can to hang with him. He’s so much fun, but it seems sometimes he’s not sure if he’s allowing to much access? It’s those fun times where I feel him pull back, or suddenly worry what isn’t getting done and he ferries himself back off to his desk.
Is there something there?
Do I want there to be?
The constant thoughts and occasional teeny slips could mean yes. It could mean. Yes.
I may be falling for the man I can’t have.
I may be in love, or just lust? I may be in desire and wanting a man I cannot have. I may be.
I am.
If only. If only he wasn’t under the spell of someone else.
Image Credit: pinterest.com

Three Little Dresses / Three Little Girls

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They’re images of brides whom I know nothing about. The dresses all match the shorter style which is all the hotness right now.

Each represents a type, a common theme.  The beauty queen, the country girl, and the chaste naive.  Some say the dress makes the girl, others say the dress finds the girl. I don’t know what to say, but I wish I knew stories of each of them.

“They’re just models” you say. “There is no story.” But there is I say, “there always is a story.” With beauty queen, why cover the right eye? Sure it could have been a photo shoot decision, but what if the makeup didn’t quite hide the circles, was she up all night partying? Was she up all night studying, and modeling is how she pays for college? I don’t know.

Take country girl.  Would anyone be surprised to find out that she doesn’t where heels that much?  The stance is awkward to say the least, but she may actually really be uncomfortable in those shoes.  The dark eyeshadow makes her all dark and twisty, which further messes with the genre we’re going with here, why a dark and twisty country girl?  Maybe she really is, so the shot was adjusted to fit her personality.

Finally, naive chaste girl.  This wedding dress scares me.  Why the baby blue bow? It feels like a young child is getting sent off to the wolves.  Her eyes are so doughy as to question if she even understands what a marriage is, let alone a lifetime.  The flapper esque dress with the antiqued room, sets the stage for a vintage style wedding, but the girls eyes really bring into question, if she really should get sent off with this groom.  Is that panic? Her fingers grasping hold of the bouquet and skirt to hold on to herself?  Possibly her personality is showing through, and she simply is concentrating that hard on the camera.  In all cases we’ll never know, but the questions will always remain.

Who were these girls, and what were their stories?

Image Credit: weddingomania.com

~Morgan Werhen 2018.

Alone In The Park

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I was sitting on the park bench that fine day enjoying the scenery, sounds, and all the green surrounding me.
The wind was breathtakingly light, the sun reflected off the trees, though, in a way it did with a surreal quality not found in photos, once caught remembered forever.
The birds nearby suddenly jumpy flapped their wings and flew off into the cloudless sky to find their nest, or food or simply enjoy that they could fly into the blue sky for no other reason than to enjoy their day.
That was when I heard them, slightly down the path a couple was walking up the road directly toward me.
Clueless to anything else around, their voices seemed caught up in each other, I couldn’t make out their words, but I could feel them float about as they traveled in and around my field of sound.
She was excited, and the red from her heels radiated around the park like light through a tunnel.  He was lost in her, I could see the way he stared at her with a longing gaze, everything she said intoxicating. Her smile never left as she held his hand and talked happily about sundry things going on in their life.
I felt like a young boy watching a guilty pleasure as this adoring couple slowly made their way toward me, oblivious to the fact that though they thought they were alone, their love for each shown like the sun in and around them. I could hear her shoes click with every step, his voice deep to her lighter tones.
Before a small clearing between the trees he stopped walking and I heard him smile, I could see her face light up as he pulled her toward him. She grasped a hold of his arm and In that the beauty of the moment eclipsed the park around them as the girl in the beautiful blue dress silently kissed her man.
At the end, she slowly pulled away, her face alight in happiness, and they walked back the way they came from, hands again intertwined, their love and life all ahead of them.
I stood to go at that point, realizing that I was again alone, their love surrounding me like the breeze spinning around on that park bench.
I walked home that day with a smile on my face and a slightly lighter step, excited for the couple whose love I had a chance to share in..
Was it a chance meeting or just that I happened to be there? The answer will never be known, but I know for me because of them I was reminded of the beauty in this world, and to ever be thankful for the small things as they make our life more beautiful.
Huge thanks to @ssoutherlandphotography for this lovely photo.