Creative Copywriter

Short story | To have and to hold

To have and to hold

3-min read

I’ve waited for what feels like a lifetime for someone to notice me.

It’s already happened to all of my friends. They got to enjoy being wanted and having the big day of their dreams, leaving me behind in the process.

Today, it’s finally about me.

The stems of beautiful white lilies are being trimmed as they are placed in the arrangements.

The guests have RSVP’d.

The church looks magnificent and we have the perfect outdoor venue for later.

I woke up this morning feeling heavy inside, which made me smile. Anxiety and excitement always show up together and today was clearly no different. No matter the heaviness, I felt bright and shiny, like a new penny.

As everyone arrived, I was moved to see so many glistening eyes being dabbed and thoughtful ensembles on display.

But between the priest thinking this was his big moment and everyone tearily coming to congratulate me afterwards, someone had caught my attention. She was over by the lilies, in between a couple of cute kids. They looked sad, probably wishing they could be outside, or playing video games.

She had stared at me for the entire proceedings, breaking me down with her unyielding gaze. Piercing through the walls I keep up to guard my soft interior. I was under her spell.

How is it that on the day I am publicly chosen, for all the world to see, that’s the day someone else sees my worth. The timing was terrible.

She approached, leaning in close and whispering, ‘I am yours, always’.

I was shocked, breathless from her brashness. She walked away and I found I couldn’t wait to see her at the next venue.

Time felt at a stand-still until then. Cars were organised and people’s voices swept around me. Then, at last, we were outside together.

I gazed up at her. 

She was tall. 

But it felt like more than that. It felt as though I was at her feet, lying on the ground and telling her that I was all hers. That I didn’t want there to be a ‘me’ anymore, just ‘us’.

Her eyes were unwavering. I saw her gaze brimming with an emotional history that belied our physical time together. Suddenly, she flung out her hand, throwing a fistful of dirt straight at me. 

I was speechless. There had to be a reason. I must have offended her, been too presumptuous. Wanted too much too soon. 

She turned away before I could protest. It felt like I was falling in slow motion.

But really falling.

Dark damp walls were rising up around me and as I strained to watch her leave, a man filled my view and threw his own fistful of dirt.

It hit me squarely on my varnish with a hollow thud.

As I sank into my despair at losing her forever, I heard a sombre voice speak.

‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust’.