Dear Maryanne-who-is-about-to-be-married,
I am so happy for you/me/us! Who is he? What is he like? Do I know him yet? [Answer: no] What would I think of it if I knew? (If I don't get married, I may never get to open this letter or the one I wrote a few days ago.)
I love to imagine you, just before the wedding, wearing a long, white wedding dress and veil, taking a break, sending all away for a precious moment of remembrance. You, Maryanne-I-haven't-become-yet, are looking back and me and wondering if you have ever been so foolish. (Do all of this! You'd better be wearing your wedding dress!) (And veil!)
Who are your bridesmaids? Maid of honour? Flower girl? Husband-to-be? Groomsen? What does it feel like to be in love? I know I haven't experienced real love yet! To be eternally bond to [the] only man you could really have any feelings for. Wow. Does he meet all the rigid standards I have set? Or are all these standards just and avoidance of the one meant for me? [Yes] Does he love poetry? Understand a sunset? Love flowers? Humour you in your little foolish bouts? [Yes] Pretend to still believe in faeries, as you must? [This part is L. M. Montgomery's fault.] (Wow. I have set standards that must not be broken.) [Oh, goodness.]
I've sent you "something blue." It used to be a forget-me-not. (I pressed in my poetry book Tennyson to Yeats.) It used to be beautiful.
How is the little flower garden? [Neglected since I moved.]
My blessing is on your wedding. I love your groom because you do.
Love,
Maryanne [middle and last name], 15 and 17 months.
P.S. Send him my love.
[I also had a letter to open on July 16, 2005, written 10 years ago. Less content, more trying to preserve my memories of my 14th summer. But I pressed myself a yellow daisy. Both appropriate. Does anyone else find it eery that I had two letters from my teenaged self to open today? I'm glad Derek reminded me of them.]
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