I sat in the back of the
library with my seventeen-
year-old friends. With heads
down, we flipped through
bridal magazines and whispered
and nodded our approval
or disdain of satin gowns,
ornate invitations, wedding rings.
But, while my friends saw men,
babies, houses, and commitments,
I saw designs, remembrances
beading, embossed paper, and diamonds.
Thirty-plus years later, I still
see those beautiful things:
the lace-covered satin pleats,
raised lettering, and sparkling rings.
Nothing more. Not a man.
Not a relationship. Nothing.
All I saw that day, in front of me,
past the magazines,
was homework, graduation,
college, and beautiful things.