Third, The Sentence

When the news about a bun baking in the oven went out, different reactions surfaced. My mother said, “Plan a simple wedding.” My sister said, “I really don't mind being a single parent”. The boyfriend said, “I'll marry you. And what's more, I want it now.” 

There were many tornadoes that went in my head. Too many that I didn't want to stop them. And if I will become a mom, what about my career? What will happen to me? Does it hurt to give birth? What is the real  plan with me and this man?

 Maybe it was time to get out of that carefree zone or the comfortable bachelor life.  Maybe it was time to learn to dance after all with the strange music that life plays unpredictably. I cannot justify everything but I must have been hypnotized I finally said 'OK' to getting married. Or sometimes I think, the events unfolded like some circus and, too enticed at watching, I didn't know that I was already being taken away.

Five months to prepare. Just a small country wedding. The entourage. The sponsors. The food. The venue. The papers. Everytime I look back everything seemed like a fast-moving movie but when it ended I was too exhausted just by watching it. Anyone who's been into a hands-on wedding would probably agree with me what an exhausting experience the preparation is. And imagine if you're pregnant? You go to Chinatown and haggle for the entourage's wardrobe. Find the right paper for the invitations. The cake design- and bake it too. The wedding banquet- and cook it too. The seminars required by the church. Etcetera.  I could only thank the little bun for holding on to dear life – all that stress and activities would have placed too much distress in her conception.

I can imagine the purists shaking their heads with disfavor.  Not a good example, getting married pregnant.  But whenever I talk with my close friends, I tell them that I wrote it somewhere in my  college diary that I wanted to walk down the aisle already with child. Just like The Bride in the movie Kill Bill. Now I had what exactly I've written down in the diary and my friends look at me with amused disbelief. 

There are many stations talking in my head right now about the decision to get married. The incessant debates, the many musings. But sonmehow it is true that whenever something is over analyzed and dissected, the magic goes away. So I just lean back and listen to Sting's Fields of Gold when it was sung by a male soloist (though that day  it mysteriously sounded like a hundred voices) on that day in May. I walked down the aisle alone- and offered myself to a lifelong sentence.