The music clicks on.
I watch them begin to move to the soft melody.
I flash to a picture I once saw of a chubby, blond-hair, blue-eyed little boy with a grin that clearly lit up any room like a ray of sunshine.
I picture her rocking this baby in her arms, singing softly, imagining a future for him.
I picture them dancing together, perhaps his wobbly feet on hers as the little boy begins to take the first steps on a journey to independence that would lead to this day.
I imagine her laying in bed just 12 hours ago, simultaneously celebrating the man whose wedding she would be attending the next day, and mourning the blond haired little boy love of her life.
For a moment in time, they dance together, 31 years of memories between them.
They are center stage with all eyes on them.
Tears well at the corner of my eyes as I catch hers.
I want her to know that her baby’s heart is safe with me. That I will protect it with everything that I am. That I will not hurt him. That she has done an amazing job raising the man that became my husband just a hour ago.
I smile as I watch them, their movements comfortable. Their laughter contagious. Her love, palpable.
I know that he is my husband today, but her little boy always.
I hold this moment in my heart, as I watch them dance, mother and son.
Come check out some amazing writers.