I don't remember it happening before. In sewing camp this week, there was a wedding. It began when one girl made a minion, named Bob. The sewer next to her was finishing a white stuffy animal. They chatted as they worked and concocted the idea of a wedding. 

 

Someone pulled out lace and created a veil. Another girl found appropriate music on her phone. A third child offered her white felt mouse as clergy. During their break, the kids pulled two rows of chairs into place, and laid down a gray velvet aisle. Kids nabbed sample projects from a shelf as wedding gifts. I asked what they needed me to do.

 

"Cry. Gently. Not too much." I could do that. 

 

After a brief ceremony which included a kiss, it was all over. Kids ate their snacks, in lieu of cake. 

 

There were two boys who never joined the festivities. They stayed hunkered down on their alligator and gorilla respectfully, working right through the break. 

 

It reminded me of a story I heard years ago about a Head Start program in a large city. The teachers found out that none of the children had ever been to a wedding. They had no experience with what it even meant, as most of their own parents were not married. The staff decided to create a pretend wedding, complete with a white dress and cupcakes. It was remembering those children, in another state that I will never meet, who were given the memory of what it means to promise to love someone, that made it easy for me to cry gently.