The following is an excerpt from my journal on the date of:
January 1st, 2011
“I have this vague memory of my uncle’s wedding years ago. All i remember wanting more than anything was to catch that bouquet. It’s what every energy in my little body strove for the entire day. I was probably around 6 or 7 but I remember really really caring about getting that bouquet of flowers.
I don’t know exactly what happened, but I don’t think I did catch it. A frenzy of superstitious 20-somethings hopped up on champagne and estrogen was no match for a little squirt like me. When I got home I sat in my closet and cried until my uncle came in, of course introducing himself as Batman first, and gave me the modest bouquet. I had no idea how he knew but it was almost a disappointment because i felt like i didn’t “earn” it the right way.
when he left i held it so close it hurt. i didn’t know much about marriage and the whole idea of relationships yet, but i was told that whoever caught the flowers was next in line for a chance at real love. i was young but i think i already knew something was going awry with my parents and i prayed it would never happen to me. i don’t remember how long i held onto that bundle of flowers but when i finally came back to reality i realized that the flowers dug into my skin so much because they were made of plastic.
my uncle isn’t here anymore, but i always wanted to ask him if he remembered that moment better than i did.”