My earliest memory was at age 5. I was dressed in a flouncy blue dress, playing the glamorous role of flower girl for an aunt’s wedding. Adorned with hair ribbons and a basket of flowers, this was my day to be a princess.
My mother, pregnant with my younger brother, happened to go into labor that day, and missed the wedding.
After performing my flower girl duty with pinache, I recall crying during the reception. “Oh, you’re sad because your mommy isn’t here!” said multiple sympathizers. “It’s okay, you’ll see her soon.” Other people said, “Are you sad because you want to meet your new baby brother? What a sweet older sister!”
The true reason for my tears? I was sad because I wasn’t allowed to sit at the wedding party table with all the grownups. I just felt left out.
My mother, pregnant with my younger brother, happened to go into labor that day, and missed the wedding.
After performing my flower girl duty with pinache, I recall crying during the reception. “Oh, you’re sad because your mommy isn’t here!” said multiple sympathizers. “It’s okay, you’ll see her soon.” Other people said, “Are you sad because you want to meet your new baby brother? What a sweet older sister!”
The true reason for my tears? I was sad because I wasn’t allowed to sit at the wedding party table with all the grownups. I just felt left out.
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