Category Archives: Wedding

Once and For All

hellomuse_love_virus_couple_hugging_6_15_2018

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

He Freed Me From the Constraints of my Heart

wedding_scoop_andrew_kyla_horse

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

Three Little Dresses / Three Little Girls

wedding_mania_girl_short_wedding_dress_6_6_2018wedding_mania_girl_short_wedding_dress_heels_6_6_2018weddingomania_girl_room_falling_apart_with_blue_bow_6_6_2018

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

instagram_ssoutherlandphotography_6_5_2018

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.

Window Dressing

praisewedding_woman_blue_gown_6_4_2018

I turned the corner heading down the path on my way to somewhere.
The path was busy, everyone rushing past, phones singing, voices conversing.
The mass continued on past you, unknowing, almost ignoring.
I too have ignored and lived only in my head.
Though what was different about today?
Was the sun angle differently touching the stone and brick?
Was my mind altered from last nights proclivities?
Was fate showing up? Why today?
The reason not known, but life altered forever is truthfully obvious.
I stepped onto the last path toward my destination, unknown that you were near.
The phone in his hand reflected the light directly under my eye, forcing a sudden but fateful turn away
from the direct sunlight.  There were two ways to turn my head, I went toward the shop display window directly parallel
to me.
There you are.
Standing in the window, gown fitting, stunningly gorgeous. I stop suddenly. Your body is aglow in the sunlight streaming
into the window, face radiant, blue ice eyes staring through me. Single braid running behind, arms perched, unmoving.
The gown so staggeringly beautiful as to adorn such a perfect specimen.
I stared at you until your eyes locked onto mine.
~Morgan
Image Credit: praisewedding.com

If Marriage is So Hard then Why Do We Want It So Bad?

This image bothers me.  It bothers me that I’m so totally jealous of it.  I don’t know the chic whose slipping on the final piece of clothing before walking down the aisle.  I don’t know the smiley happy people waiting for her to walk down that flowery, or not flowery, or just plain people tunnel toward her ‘end.’ I don’t know any of the people watching her while they remember their happy moments when they did the exact same thing!
I don’t know the dad, or mom or aunt or brother or dog who will be accompanying them while they make that walk.
The most beguiling part though, she is going to put on that heel, stand up, barely hold on to her emotions the rest of the ceremony and step happily into a life of more servitude than even the moment this photo was taken.  I don’t mean she’s going to ‘hitch’ herself to a horrible man ( notice the use of man here, I go there only because I’m assuming that women marry men, orpinterest_bride_putting_shoes_on_6_3_2018 they magically find a man instead of a horny boy ) but that she is willingly giving herself less freedom.
The relationships with other boys are supposed to stop.  She’s supposed to stop flirting at work, if she even did in the first place, because lets face it, flirting has turned into a semi dangerous affair ( again, not a bad pun but a real use of a real word. )
No more special relationships with other guys or at least nothing secret.
Everything is supposed to be in the open.
When I was hanging out last night, us girls ended up a bar largely because they had the room and we all felt like sipping or drinking something instead of eating away our ( my ) sorrows and/or adding to ourselves physically while emotionally we remove mental baggage.
The calories aside, things can tend to get interesting with a bunch of women sipping mixed colory drinks or asking for a 2nd ( or 3rd ) margarita.
No one went overboard, but as we’re all chatting about all the things in our lives, they deftly gave me the floor for a good bit of the night.  I didn’t call ‘the boy’ any evil names, I may have wrote our married name down a couple of times and possibly ripped those papers up.  I may have deleted his contact and texts from my phone, I even may have changed my Netflix password because there is NO way he gets that! However, I did cry, and it’s so ridiculous, because this didn’t happen recently, it’s been some time, the breakup was months ago.
They’ve all been there, and while everyone agreed with me, they tried to nicely say that it was the ‘right’ thing, he wasn’t the ‘right’  boy. Though, in a lot of ways it only meant that for those who are married, or even dating, they knew in their hearts that they found the ‘right’ man. They also know why I haven’t, or some inkling.  I have wonderful friends, and they don’t know about this blog so they’re not going to know what I’m saying, but this is what I’m saying.  Everyone around that table knew knew KNEW that those who had the ‘right’ relationship were giddy that it was working, and they had ‘some’ amount of guilt being thankful that they weren’t me.
WHY?
WHY DO WE ALL WANT MARRIAGE SO BAD?
WHY DO WE WANT THAT SPECIAL SOMEONE?
I only ask because those same girls were happily complaining about their men.  He leaves his shirts all over the place.  He doesn’t like to wash his hands before a meal?
????? REALLY ?????
He doesn’t like this, or that. Yesterday you WON’T believe what he said about this!
I appreciated their complaints but they rang hollow. At the very least they rang hollow because I knew they were all trying to make me feel better.  Sure, some of them are having some real issues, and they are real issues that I don’t have, but they are dealing with them as a couple, as a twosome. I’m stuck as a onesome.
I want someone to be mad at because he doesn’t pick up after himself.
I want to have someone to come home to me.
I want someone to love me back.
I want to get dressed in the morning and have someone kiss me goodbye.
I want to have breakfast, and then have someone else get up and have breakfast with me ( it can even be a second breakfast or dinner, or brunch. )
I want the cold nights cuddled up together.
I want to fight with someone about money, decorating, or the something or the something else.
I want to have someone to do stuff with.
I want to. Not. Be. Lonely.
If I do a Google search on marriage I’ll find millions of people saying how hard it is, is it worth it for men?  Is it worth it for women? Everyone knows about couples in counseling, divorce happens all the time.
These are all horrible hard things, things I don’t have to worry about.
The people out there who make a living talking about marriage seem to say that it is ‘dying’ or that maybe it is an institution possibly not as important as previously thought. There are a lot of women who happily type about equality, and sleeping around, and how women can do that like men. They say that they need no one but themselves for happiness.
A lot of boys will happily keep dating around forever, no plans to stop their lives, or gasp have children and responsibilities!
If any of them are right, then why don’t I feel that way?
Why do I have to keep reminding myself that ‘I’m happy!’
I just wish I didn’t have to tell myself I have it all.
I wish I didn’t have to remind myself that getting up in the morning and doing everything alone is the greatest thing ever.
I wish my heart didn’t rip wide open when I stared at some photo of a strange woman putting on her shoe before she stands up, puts her arm in the arm of someone who after a small walk together will happily pass her into the arms of a man also willing to be tied only to her. I don’t know her, but I can’t seem to talk myself out of the fact that her life is better than mine, and I want what she has.
If all the things keep telling me that marriage is sooo hard, why do I want it so bad?
~Morgan
Image Credit: happywedd.com

Who Is This Person Staring Back at Me?

tumblr_girl_in_pink_dress_staring_at_a_mirror_6_1_2018

My eyes opened suddenly, a rush of emotions and panic flooding my mind.  “Who am I” I thought.  “Where am I?” Laying on the bed I turned my head to attempt to look at my surroundings.  The room was dark, it smelled slightly musty but I smelled a floral scent mixed in with slightly damp, and cold feelings.  I moved my arms and legs, they felt different, like they haven’t been moved in while, but they all responded as if everything was fine.  I sat up, but felt a little stiff and slow.  There were a couple of windows in the room, they seemed large, but with hardly any light in the room I was struggling to see what or where I was.
Where was I? I felt calm, the panic was replaced by a feeling of excitement, but I didn’t know why?  I remembered going to bed at some point wearing my yellow sun dress, with a white hairpiece holding back my hair..  I remembered running in the grass with my friends as we would ride our bikes around a neighborhood?  The thoughts and memories started to flood in.  I was 12.  It was summer. The light wind would play with my brunette bob and blow it around my face, always forcing me to wrap the stray strands behind my right ear.  My mom always getting after me about picking up my dolls. My white strappy sandals left in the middle of room.
The light was starting to peak into the windows around the heavy blinds. I decided to try to stand up.  It went fine but I was surprised to feel hair falling at my back.  I habitually moved my hand to place it behind my ear. What? It cascades down my back? I grabbed hold of it. It was full of ‘body?’ why did I know that term? It smelled floral, like lilacs in the summer just before their peak. “Why is my hair so long?” I kept walking toward the window, slightly shocked that walking in a sundress would feel so constricting. Still reeling from these mixture of sensations that felt both new and familiar at the same time.
His name was Jordan. I remember a Jordan. That day, “why do I remember that day?” the sun was bright, shining through the small oak in our yard causing the shadows to dance on the house.  He lived across the street from us, though I remember it was a street where cars went back an forth. I remember standing at the curb and we were yelling back and forth about something. He was in a light blue t-shirt with muddy shorts.  His ‘race’ bike with the orange handle grips sitting next to him tossed on the ground, the kickstand shoving up a mound of grass and dirt next to it. “You have to come over today!” He was yelling.  “I can’t!” I yelled back.  The sun was hot, I could see he was sweating a little, his two front teeth gleaming as he moved his mouth.  “Why couldn’t I come over?” I asked my self?
Whoa!! I almost tripped on something on the floor. “What is that?” I felt something sliding next to me. The excitement also seemed to make me breathe harder.  Something is restricting my chest? “What??” I stop. “Just stand here, calm down” I think, that decision causes me to start relaxing a bit.  I was almost to the windows, for some reason it felt like opening the shade would allow me to understand why nothing makes sense.  I start to explore who or “what” I am. I immediately realize that I must be a woman, no longer 12, long long past. I feel below my waist and my breath heaves in a panic, but an excited twirl of happiness.  My pajamas seem to not be pajamas. I take both hands, and lean down at the waist. and it seems I have a dress on with a skirt full of luxuriant “where did that word come from” ruffles.  They cascade and follow my body well past my legs and around the floor.  This new body of mine is so confusing, but it feels like “me.”
Jordan kept yelling but the cars were too loud, the wind seemed to pick up and I remember the day feeling darker. I instinctively remember fixing my hair behind my ear, but there was a sound, a loud screeching sound.  Everything slows down in that moment, but I remember turning my head toward the noise.
I steadied myself in the room, the sun continued to push more of it’s yellow light through the windows. It was time to finish this slow walk and see where I was. Moving toward the windows again, taking daintier steps, I heard my dress swish and swirl as my legs bumped against the skirt. At the windows I could see two of them had blinds, the type I remember were in my room, wide wood slats that would pivot to hide the light, forcing streams to pour in at the edges. However, the middle window was different. It seemed to hold something smooth, or attached to the window. There was a little light, but it was forced only at the square edges of the window. The beams shot out like a line, almost a sign with no backlighting for the words that would be seen if the light could shine through.  I reached the wall, I felt what appeared to be cold brick, but the warmth from the other side was apparent. I moved my hand along the surface of the wall where the light could penetrate enough for my eyes to see my hand.  Whoa, again, my heart quickened! Fingers so long, rounded nails, perfectly manicured with a light pink detail. The sun danced off my nails as they shimmered. Then it caught my eye. I gasped! On my finger sat a ring with a diamond.
The sound was deafening! The wreck caused one vehicle start coming my way. I sat there frozen as a hunk of steel was rolling toward the curb, I could see the panic in the drivers eyes, mouth wide, words streaming out but I couldn’t hear. I did hear something, or wait, someone screaming. “Judith!!! Judith run! RUN!” It was Jordan.  He was screaming to run, but where? I turned away from the driver barreling toward me and tried to move my legs.  It was like they were filled with lead, like a dream where I was running out of a classroom realizing I forgot to put on pants, but I couldn’t move.  “I’m coming!” He yelled, I couldn’t see him, but his voice kept getting closer. I tried desperately to run but my legs were stuck, the car was still screeching towards me, and now I could smell burning rubber and smoke.
Something hit me. I remember that. But, it hit me from the side. Arms wrapped around me and I was “tackled?” I remember falling, fast, smacking my head, but there was a rush behind me, as dirt and grass and flying debris hit me and Jordan? “Jordan!” “Jordan tackled me and shoved me away!”
I sat there desperately trying to remember more.  I remember my room, noises, people surrounding me, I remember being carried, I remember hearing a siren.  I remember hearing words about Jordan, that he wasn’t answering, they were panicked. I remember closing my eyes. Nothing after that.
That foreign hand, with the large cut diamond moved over to pull up the blind. “It’s time to meet me” I think, “Judith is my name I believe, who is Judith and why does she have a ring on her hand?” I pulled up the blind and light streamed in, I quickly walked across the middle window and pulled up the other blind. The light instantly filled the room and my eyes blinked while attempting to adjust. There definitely was something on the center mirror, it appeared to be writing. I blinked again and gasped as I saw this room for the first time. Though, it felt familiar in a way, like I’ve been here before.
The bed I was in stood alone, but there was a framed photo of Jordan an I by the nightstand, I was in the yellow sundress, and he was just smiling at me. The sheets were white, but there were yellow notes posted everywhere. I couldn’t read them, but they had an order, and appeared slightly tattered, or well used. Turning toward the center window I saw what was pasted in the window. There attached somewhat permanently was a giant letter starting with the words  “Your name is Judith Winters, on July 24th 13 years ago you hit your head but you were saved from death my Jordan Reetherin. You need to read the letter by the mirror next to you to catch up on what has happened to you so you can move forward with your life from this morning on.
The feelings of panic started again, “I couldn’t remember anything since that accident! I’m standing here a woman and I have to re learn who I am.  I have a ring.” I turned toward the mirror and at that point is the first ( or thousandth ) time I met me.  I had long brunette hair, floating past my shoulders, I was wearing makeup, light pink lipstick and earrings adorned my ears. I was thin, but not gaunt, I had the body of a woman but only memories of a child. The person staring back at me was familiar with her body, but the mind was trying to wrap that fact with missing memories.  Who is this person staring back at me? The dress was gorgeous, my shoulder blades heaved in anticipation and fear as I removed the envelope from the far left of the mirror.  I opened the flap and removed the new letter, folded three times. It was long, very detailed, and hand written in a mans handwriting.
Dear Judith,
This is Jordan.  I love you, and today is our Wedding Day.
Image Credit: gabbytaangeles.tumblr.com

The Song Remembers

pinterest_woman_in_red_gown_5_30_2018

There is a place in everyone’s heart that doesn’t seem to have a switch with a mappable location.
It snuggles in, hidden from your sight, even hidden from your life, but makes itself aware in small subtle ways over the course of our lives.
To call it a switch is unkind really, as to actually turn it on is transformative.  The change takes place in your entire being, your heart beats faster, hands seem to be shaky, legs less sure.  The mind however, no words can describe the changes there.  Once the change happens, the mind becomes euphoric, or depressingly sad. The delicious meal that was causing so much happiness suddenly turns to gruel in the mouth. Of course, the opposite is also true.  The tears falling with no possible end, may suddenly change to divine joy in which for every tear the sun shines brighter, and even the rain turns into a pitter and patter of diamonds dropping out of the sky.
I’m talking of course about the power of music, a sound, a smell and its ability to conjure up memories from a far off time.  The switch of course is that single moment when you were doing one thing, in fact, you were living your life as if nothing had ever happened. You were effectively doing things any human would do, and then out of nowhere something changes. Your ear hears a sound, you smell a meal, a flower, even a smell that means nothing to anyone else near you.
This single moment changes everything.
The second your mind hears said audible note, or notes, you’re transformed. If the memory is a good one, it feels like being wrapped in a soft blanket on a cold day, or hugging a long lost friend for a long period of time without the worry of needing to let go.  If it is a reminder of a loss, then time seems to stop, you feel your body twist backwards through the tunnel of sadness, and your entire being is as emotionally distraught as if the event just happened again.
Sometimes these memories are so powerful, the person you were before the memory, and the person you become after are two completely different versions.  Some people have regressed so far as if they either lost 30 years and appear as a young boy or girl.  Others mature to the point of “walking out of a there a new woman.” There is simply the possibility that the memory will bring with it joyous thoughts which float around the mind, change the eyes, and mouth for a small minute and disappear as if they never floated back.  Others will roar back and take over, possibly never leaving and effectively changing the individual for the rest of their living life.
How can it be that one sound, one song, or noise, or smell or feel is so powerful?
I don’t know, but  Trisha Yearwood did in  “The song remembers when,” and everyone who listens to that song can place themselves in a similar situation where during one second everything was perfect, and suddenly without notice, everything changed.
Image Credit: pinterest.com

Am I Enough for You

pinterest_bride_getiing_ready_5-27-2018

Am I enough for you?
Do you see me sitting here waiting to be loved by you?
Do you know the power you hold over me? How vulnerable I am? I put on a good show. I make you work for me, I don’t let you run me over. I know you care. But do you really know what I’m capable of doing,  blossoming into when you care for me likeI need you too.
Do I trust that you will?
Do I trust you?
I’ve lived this life being told so many things, I can conquer, I can do, now I sit on this bed, holding these flowers and all I want is to be enveloped by you. I desperately want to give in to these feelings and know my heart will be held closely by you. Can you? Will you?
I wish I knew for sure, but my heart has been handed to you to take, and I’m not sure I have the strength to take it back and run away.
I love you so, do you love me so too?
Image Credit: www.brit.co/getting-ready-wedding-shots

The Pink and the Flowers

pinterest_pink_flowered_wedding_dress_5_25_2018

I wake in the morning and feel lost without my lace.
Silk wakes my soul like a flower blooming after a spring rain.
Satin around my skin envelops like the steam rising from a warm coffee on a cold morning.
This dress wraps me like a rich foliage basking by a churning brook, each movement intertwines my whole self in beautiful color.
I feel awake, removed from the slumber that confined my personality before bathing myself in this delicate pleasure.
Image Credit: weddinginspirasi.com