The origin of the whole idea is fuzzy in our collective minds. Whose idea was this anyway? None of are really sure. We can’t pinpoint the exact date that the concept took root, but nevertheless, it did.
And over the months. It evolved. And took hold.
We would do it. We absolutely would do it. When all the divorces are final.
That is when we will make it happen.
Five girlfriends, bonded by the serendipity of similar stories, will gather on a bridge to ceremoniously release the past into the water below. The tears, mistakes, and failures of yesterday will go to a watery grave, while the gift of today and promise of tomorrow will be baptized with champagne.
And now. That day is today.
“Alright girls, check out my big ass veil,” Julia announces as she pulls the monstrosity from a bag. It is a hot August night and our group is perched on a picturesque bridge over the river that runs through our town.
We can only gasp our horror at the site of this blast from Julia’s bridal past.
“Holy shit!” Annie exclaims. Which pretty much sums it up.
“I can’t believe someone married you with that thing on your head,” I deadpan. Julia’s veil rivals something one may find on a mutant cockatoo. She puts it on and we all gasp again for good measure.
That thing is huge. And high.
And awful.
“I know! I know!” she affirms, “What the f**k was I thinking?”
We all collapse into hysterics. And then, of course, all insist on trying it on.
Last winter, when we began to plot Divorce Palooza 2008, we went back and forth on what to throw when our collective freedoms were finally official. We all wanted to choose something from our weddings or marriages that would symbolize the past.
Susie confessed solemnly, “I have every single rose petal my husband ever gave me.”
“No way.” I couldn’t believe it.
“Yes way,” Susie confirms, arching her eyebrows for emphasis, “And I think that would be the perfect little memento to toss into the water.”
We all nod in agreement. Absolutely.
“Well, my ex-husband and I were together since we were freshmen in high school,” Sonja reminds us. “There is nothing from my past that he is not a part of. My entire adolescence and adulthood, he was there. Let’s just say I have a lot to choose from.”
“I don’t know, I just don’t know,” Annie interjects, “I’ll think of something.”
“Well I am throwing in the damn dress,” I announce. Because of course, I want to be the most obnoxious.
Susie snorts into her martini and shrieks, “What the hell! The dress?”
“Yes, the dress. It was awful! I’d just had a baby; I was a fat ass snow beast of a bride. Besides. It will look HILARIOUS floating down the river! Can’t you see it?!?!” I eloquently exclaim as I sell the concept to the group.
“Oh my god, don’t you want to keep it? Have baptismal gowns made out of it for your grandchildren?” Susie offers in defense of the dress.
I just stare at her.
Who thinks of crap like that?
Apparently Sappy Susie that’s who.
I explain to her, and the rest of the Divorce Land girls, that that dress was some beaded shoulder-padded throw back to 1890 that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. Let alone my defenseless descendants.
They cackle in agreement. If it is as bad as I say it is. They’re on board with the dress toss.
And so. It is settled.
We will do it.
And last Thursday night.
We did.
Amid champagne. And laughter. And friendship.
We let the past go.
Dried rose petals. So many “I love you’s.”
Engagement pictures. Two kids smiling into happily ever after.
Love notes from a husband who cheated. Talk is cheap.
Two names entwined on a wedding reception napkin. A promise that was never kept.
A bad fad wedding veil. Chosen by a girl who has since become a woman.
And one big white wedding dress. Marriage is not at all about the wedding day.
All of it descended into the water. All of it floated away.
As five girls said goodbye to yesterday.
And “I do.”
To the future.
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