Jon's birthday

“'It was the happiest day of my life', Dan said after Kathryn’s wedding."
“Oh!,” laughed my friend Bobby, as we sat having lunch. “Shouldn’t he have said marrying you was the best day of his life.”
“No. I don’t think so,” I said smiling back. “It certainly wasn’t mine. We were too young. You know I was pregnant with Jon, and it was all a bit of a rushed job. I didn’t want any fuss, but my mother insisted on us having a proper wedding, and I was too confused to argue.”
“Didn’t you walk home in your wedding dress?”
“Yes. Most of the day is just a blur to me. But there are three incidents I can remember. The first one was driving to the church with my dad telling me that it wasn’t too late for me to change my mind. The second was in the church, just before we made our vows. I was nervous and wondering what I was doing there. Dan took hold of my hand and squeezed it gently, and looking directly at me, he smiled. It was a smile that said, 'It’s going to be alright'.”
“Ah! Bobby said, “And it's still alright nearly forty years on.”
“And the third was the two of us leaving the reception without telling anyone, and walking through the town, me still in my wedding dress. We didn’t care.”
"It was a beautiful June evening, so you wouldn't have felt the cold."

“No, the happiest day of my life, was the day I gave birth to Jon, 39 years ago today.”

Massive mop head chrysanthemums Dan’s mum sent from the family - enormous heads, bright yellow, cheerful against the grey walls of the maternity home - blood red long stemmed roses from Dan - the baby - perfectly formed – screaming – clinging – hungry – needing me like no one had ever needed me before.

Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood