The slit in the thick silk curtain spreads, and the glisten of a satin skirt leads her towards the mirror that is framed in whitewashed wood carved with floral detail in front of us.
Shoulders softened down and slightly back, she glides up onto the circular wooden platform before the mirror. A small crystal chandelier hangs a few feet above her head.
Where conversation hummed from the light grey velvet couch now in unison stand the 6 of us silent as we gather around our bride-to-be. The hairs on my arms raise, and a shiver runs through my body.
Hands draw over mouths agape, mascara runs, tissues are passed between sniffles. An, “Oh my God!,” breaks the silence and we are back in a giddy hum.
She stands there tall, as if her head would be crowned by the crystals in the chandelier. Her grin is knowing. We are tugging at the white dress, pointing at hemlines, details, trim.
She descends from her platform and walks a lap around the velvet couch and back. Her mother walks up and stands beside her. She grabs her hand, and they walk another lap together.
Their faces wear different ages, tales each their own, yet their eyes meet for a moment that tells of the journey they share.