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She shook her head. “I always thought you deserved better than me.”
“What? No, that’s not—”
She smiled, and held our clasped hands between our chests. “I was so young when I had you, and after your dad left, I didn’t think I could do it on my own. I never felt good enough.”
“Mom—”
She shushed me with a fingertip to her own lips. “This is important. I know I didn’t set a good example for you in that way. I settled for men who weren’t good for me—and certainly not good enough for you—and I’m sorry. It took me a long time to realize I was strong enough on my own and that I didn’t have to force a man into our lives just because I was afraid of failing you as a parent. I was afraid of being alone.”
My eyes burned with tears. Sure, I’d argued with her mother a lot, but I’d never blamed her for the choices the men in our lives had made. “You are strong, Mom,” I croaked, and the wedding planner, who I’d forgotten about, stuffed a tissue in my free hand. “I always thought you were. And you did raise me on your own. Those other men…” I huffed. “You thought you weren’t a good enough mom or wife, but they weren’t good enough foryou.”
Mom pulled me in for a hug, careful not to smudge our make-up. “I love you. Have I told you that lately?”
“Not today.”
“You’re the most amazing girl.” She kissed my cheek. “You’re everything I’m not and everything I wished you would be. Smart, independent, and so damn stubborn.”
“You like that I’m stubborn?”
She held my face between her hands. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
We were minutes away from her wedding ceremony, and yet here I was swelling with pride at her compliments. We might as well have been the only two there, even though one hundred guests sat mere feet away while a trio of musicians played a waltz. “I love you, Mom.”
“But I need one more favor,” she added with a sheepish smile.
I snorted. “What?”
“Could you house-sit while we go away?”
I laughed and nodded my answer. Then my mom kissed me one more time before signaling to the wedding planner that we were ready. The music changed, we were handed bouquets, and suddenly I was walking my mom down the aisle one more time.
This time, though, I knew it was going to stick.
Mom’s eyes welled with tears when she saw Frank, who couldn’t control his broad smile.
“You look beautiful,” he said softly, when we reached the canopy, and I handed her off to him. I stood off to the side, catching Jason’s playful gaze over their heads.
Hey you, he mouthed.
The officiant began the service by welcoming everyone and read a few passages before introducing me. I stepped up to the mic, unraveling a small piece of paper.
“This poem is titledMaybe,but the author is anonymous,” I said and glanced over to Mom and Frank, staring into each other’s eyes, and then to Jason. He smiled at me, my attention momentarily drifting to how damn good he looked, until he covertly motioned to my paper. With a blink, I got back on track, though I didn’t miss his smug smirk.
“Maybe we are supposed to meet the wrong people before meeting the right one so that, when we finally meet the right person, we will know how to be grateful for that gift.
Maybe it is true that we don’t know what we have got until we lose it, but it is also true that we don’t know what we have been missing until it arrives.
Maybe the happiest of people don’t necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.
Maybe the best kind of love is the kind you can sit on a sofa together and never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you’ve ever had.
Maybe you shouldn’t go for looks; they can deceive. Don’t go for wealth; even that fades away. Go for someone who makes you smile, because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright.
Maybe you should hope for enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, and enough hope to make you happy.
Maybe love is not about finding the perfect person, it’s about learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.”
When I finished the poem, I took my place back on the side of the make-shift alter, so the could exchange vows and rings, which got me unexpectedly emotional, and I had to hide my sniffling behind the flowers. After they lit a candle, the officiant introduced everyone to the new Mr. and Mrs. Santos. Frank picked up my mom, swinging her in a circle, entirely disregarding the kiss protocol, and the guests went wild as they made their way back down the aisle.
