Breath in.

1...2...

Breath out.

The air whooshes out of my lungs and makes a faint cloud in the early afternoon drizzle. It falls withought any sign of lettin up, sparkling prettily against the gray sky before it's long fall ends abruptly on the lush emerald green grass beneath my bare feet. I loose my toes in the rich padding as I try to quell my nerves.

But my heart is beating like one of the tenor drums, rumbling off quick patterns that enhance and lift up the sound of the blood coursing through my veins.

I've waited my whole life for this moment.

The tune that has been playing ends with a large flare of pipes and snares. My breath catches. It's almosts time. Breath, girl. Remember to breath...

My tune floats through the air. Played by a single set of pipes. No, it's not well known, and probably never will be, but I don't care. I would know it anywhere.

He wrote it for me. Two days after I spoke my heart to him in the wee hours of the morning when I was in so much pain that nothing mattered, yet I had to get these feelings off my chest, mind, and heart and out in the open. Just two days before, he had spent all of his free time (I assume that was also between the messages we sent) composing this piece for me.

It's funny, how long ago that was, or seems, when he told me that my message was ironic. How far away we were from each other, yet our hearts still came together, needing no urging from either of us. Two people, alike in so many ways, yet so very different, felt the tugging on their hearts and answered the call. The strange, exotic call of this wild, untamable beast that blinds the eyes of men. This love. We hadn't even met in person.

Agonizing slowness.

I want to run to him, so far away, but I know to keep my head. My smile feels forced, just as I'm forced to wear this suffocating, impractical dress, so blinding white I'm almost ashamed to wear it, for all the turmoil that has been happening in my soul. Just building, building up, building up for this day. My day. His day. Our day.

The day.

Almost there. So close! Force back a frustrated scream. I want to run! Let me go to him! Embrace him! My love!

The music plays. On and on. The soft sound of the drones mingling with the melody. I find myself drumming my fingers to the beat on the stems of my flowers before I stop them by squeezing so tightly, I hear, with a little guilt towards my mother who put my bouquett together, some of the stems break.

My father. My first love. I love him dearly, but if he would only let go of my arm! As if he knows my intent, he had tightened his hold, gripping me to keep me at a managable pace...as if he doesn't want to run as well! Hmm. Maybe I should slow; if I can't have my love, then he must feel the torture I feel and listen to the pipes.

Five steps. Four steps. Three...two...one! I've made it! I laugh triumphantly, which to anyone else would sound like nervous giggling. My Maid-of-Honor shakes her head at me. But what does she know? She has yet to experience the fluttering in my stomach. The joy I'm feeling at finally standing. Here. At this place. Oh, Lord...

I turn and look up at the towering giant beside me. I feel like David before Goliath, though this time, it is the giant that fells David as the last simple notes fall among the assembled along with the persistant drizzle. My knees buckle and threaten to give out, but suddenly I heel his hand on my own, his strong pipers' fingers wrapping gently and overlapping around my small and shaking hand as he guides my forward the last few paces to the small overhang.

A man stands there, my uncle, the purple sash of a military chaplain draped around his neck. My piper's hand shakes, even though he is taller than my uncle. I give him a squeeze, as much to reassure myself as him.

Words are spoken, candles blown, then back to where we started. More words. My hand is sweaty. I hope he doesn't mind.

The rings? Ah, yes. The rings. These too are exchanged. My heart flutters. Drums beat. My breath catches again. I've waited so long...

"You may kiss the bride."

Time. Where has it gone? It slowed, then stopped. Silent as the peaceful slumber of a young child.

He lets go of my hand-Don't!-and uses both of his to lift my veil. My gosh.

He is perfect.

Six foot five inches of a timid sort of strength with short dark hair. My love. Eyes, darker than dark save for when the light hits them just right.

I have to crane my neck to look into those eyes, eyes only for me while all the world is on us. He wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb and I realize with a start he's holding back tears of his own! This man, this boy! So strong, yet there are tears in those beautiful eyes! And me, being the selfish creature I am, failed to notice them. I'm horrible! This dress should be worn by some other girl, one worthy enough to be standing here at this moment and not the wretched creature that is! Some other girl-

His lips brush mine, soft and gentle, unlike the fanfare of pipes and drums that cry out in jubilation with my heart. He has to bend low for that kiss and when it is done, I find myself reaching up for more, like a chick of the bird that is my name. Jay. Joy. Happiness. Bliss.

There is no other girl. There are no other people. Yes, they are there watching us and cheering, but they don't matter. The only sounds I hear are the beating of our hearts and our breathing. Our song. This is our moment. The others will have theirs in due time, but until that moment, I say, let them watch.

Let.

Them.

Watch.

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