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Grandmothers at a Wedding

The bride was sweet, the groom was an unknown entity. Not old enough to be married, she was barely twenty. I protested all the way to the church, my cries unheard. My husband told me to settle down, not be a nerd. But she’s a baby, I protested. She cannot bake or cook. Time to teach her, he told me, and gave me that look. She was my granddaughter, a beauty, and not educated yet. She had no pots or pans, just some posters, and a spoiled pet. What does he see in her? I asked. She’s not grown, not ready. His name was Frederick, but his side called him Freddy. He’s a baby! His grandma protested from the row beside me. I pretended not to hear, but snorted, secretly laughing in glee. We met at the reception, and got along great, two old ladies fair. She’s adorable she said. I especially love her gorgeous blonde hair. He’s a prince, I told her in a reciprocally wonderful way. Two fast friends finding each other on their wedding day. Now we share great-grandchildren, and we are extremely happy. To give them back to their parents. We have both become sappy. Date: Feb 24, 2020 Contest: Occasional Poetry Sponsor: Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

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