Sunday Scribblings " No wedding for me"

Sunday Scribbling prompt this week is "Wedding"

“There’s one too many women living in this house.” mom said with a vengeance! I was seventeen. So we bought a mobile home, then asked them to sign the papers so we could be married. It was fully furnished, but wasn’t delivered until three weeks after the nuptials. We grudgingly stayed with mom and dad a few weeks longer.

It was a very small ceremony. Dad greeted me at the door of the church. A place I sought solace most of my childhood. I cried that ugly cry all the way down the isle. I hated the thought of losing my last name. Was it the sign of a mistake? Possibly! It was too late. With ongoing turmoil between mother and I it was a very cognitive solution for a mature teen.
I was homesick that first year, regularly calling in pursuit of a shopping date with mom. She was either busy or planned something with her sister. After months of attempts with a negative response, I stopped asking. I lived forty five minutes away; surprise visits seemed out of the question, yet I attempted that as well. In retrospect I can see she was relieved I was gone.
Soon I stopped being homesick and resigned myself to being a wife. A damn good one at that. Just seventeen I made bread, soups and baked from scratch. I bought only meager necessities in order to save. At twenty one we bought our first house and paid cash for top of the line appliances.

I sacrificed a lot back then. Would I do it again? Probably not! I would have married someone more suitable with common interests, someone kinder. For years, we ambled through. I was the dutiful housewife during the whole marriage. To be honest I became covertly ambivalent, and rebellious. Around the seven year mark I devised my own life within the marriage.

I had a good job, a great network of friends. He was anti social, would only drag along on rare occasions, where he sat staring at me the whole night as I flitted from place to place socializing. Angst befell me, knowing he wanted to leave almost as soon as we arrived anywhere. Eventually I went most places alone. I finally left for a stint, but returned Six weeks later unsure of my choice Back in the home I kept my new adopted independence within the marriage.

It was at the twelve year mark we decided to take a huge leap and buy a new home. Four times the size of our thousand square foot first home. It was on an acre property. The day we signed the papers for that big house, I got pregnant. I was shocked and thrilled all at once! It was a beautiful home with a circular staircase, as well as a cathedral staircase. I had it made, so I thought!.Beautiful new home and new baby on the way!

I worked like a Trojan to keep up the forty four hundred square foot home, painted the whole inside, raised a baby and worked full time. It was during that time I acquired the nick name midnight maid. I barely slept. We entertained every weekend, playing cards and board games with friends, I made gourmet meals of scallop St Jacques and we drank special coffees with whip cream. I was super woman, with a European work ethic.

Physically life was fun, I adored motherhood and all my friendships. But I was disconnected from my husband. Outside appearances, all was fine. Except for the continuous contemptible humor we slung at each other. A few ugly domestic occurrences gave me pause. Soon I was rethinking my life, my daughter’s life.
Three years later we bought another home, twenty two hundred square foot rancher in a quaint neighborhood for our child. The beautifully manicured half acre property with a gazebo covering the hot tub just off the master suite was a minor diversion from underlying marital discord . It was my dream home, with a huge country kitchen decked out in pink corian counter tops and a fireplace. Every single morning when I entered that kitchen I said a quiet prayer of thanks to god!
Still a huge void almost swallowed me up. I realized there was an entity living in my space that was emotionally unavailable to all in the home and those who visited. I sought help, to no avail. Things escalated to scary proportions. We were working on the logistics of a split. It didn’t end well, things got very ugly. Sadly I have no desire to even see or speak to him. Although I have moved on and forgiven all the ugliness that transpired in our relationship. I'm still forced to observe from afar the continued injustices with others. Be careful who you choose as a life mate, because it never really ends!

It’s exactly eleven years almost to the day that my divorce was finalized! A few years back three friends and I had a mock wedding. We dressed up, played the song "imagine", vowed to be true ourselves first, bought rings to commemorate the festive occasion! A reporter even entered photos of our crazy antics in the local paper! I have been living happily every after since!

Would I want a legal wedding again? Probably not! No wedding for me!