****
Many plans and hopes and dreams had been imagined
and focused toward this March weekend. Our middle son was
to be wed to his beautiful, full of life fiancée. Much care and
planning and negotiation preceded the four-day celebration.
The weather forecast was for rain and a dip in the spring
temperatures. Many people from many places descended upon
St. Louis to stand alongside and be with our boy and his bride.
There were lots of moving parts, people doing their share, and
now it was go time.
As parents of the groom, our big event and
responsibility was around the rehearsal dinner. It was time to
set up for the evening. I got into our rental car, put it into
reverse, and smiled at my youngest son and his wife in the
backseat. I looked into my side mirror and saw a big dumpster,
but I missed the large steel hooks protruding from its side.
After a screech and scrape of metal against metal, a
little advice from the man in the backseat, and a panic response
that led to the meeting of the left rear bumper and a brick wall,
I took a big, deep breath. “Now I have to tell your dad” came
out of my mouth. Heart pounding and feeling a little sick and
sheepish, I drove around to meet my most loving and gracious
husband.
No one, most of all me, wanted this unfortunate car vs
dumpster situation to cloud or color the event before us. After
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