Frog Serenade

SHE SITS IN THE GRASS PATIENTLY WAITING NEXT TO ME. A long strand of drool hangs from the side of her snout. Please don’t shake. Now is not the time. Shirley looks up at me — her black eyes wincing against the sun — acknowledging the gravity of the moment. She lays down and the gleaming threat dissipates into the freshly cut field. A bee flies close, she chomps at it, achieving her standard of missing completely.

Three years ago Shirley ran away and stayed on the lam for 15 months. Getting her back after more than a year was one of the happiest days of my life. Now, here she is witnessing the happiest day of my life — waiting for my bride to walk alongside the lake, take my sweaty hands and share our vows.

Classical guitar serenades our friends, family, and loved ones sitting nearby in somewhat steady chairs. The frogs who call this home sing their chorus composed for our wedding. The geese honk by in V formation, foretelling the arrival of the most beautiful woman on Earth.

The Bentley pulls into view, dust wafting in the wake of its whitewall tires, creating an effect reminiscent of vintage French films. The cabin glows. The door opens, she steps down, taking her father’s hand. Arm in arm they walk toward me. Her eyes meet mine, blurred by distance and her veil.

I simultaneously realize two things:

One: I get to spend the rest of my life with the love of my life and this makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.

Two: I forgot to put the vows in my pocket.