Always a bridesmaid, never a bride
…Or okay, once a bridesmaid in my brother’s wedding…anyway, I’m done wasting my energy on self-pity. If marriage is in my future, I want it to be when the time is right with the right person to share in the rest of my life.
If these were the olden days (the so-called-by-some golden age) I’d be marked as expired, past my prime, way past the point of eligibility; labeled a spinster, old maid, washed up and dried out–marriage but a distant dream.
My halls may not resound with the deep laugh of a man. My walls may not hold framed family portraits. My bed may be as empty as my womb. But so what? I won’t stress it. I know those options haven’t been taken off this (for now) table for one.