I should be married by now.
After all, the ceremony was set to begin at 3:30, end at 4:30. By now we would be married, have celebrated with cocktails, sat down to dinner. At this very moment we’d probably be dancing.
But we’re not. Because that’s not what the time calls for. Instead we got a strawberry-and-cream cake and drank some champagne at home.
We’ve rescheduled for October, and have plans in place for social distancing, but as long as I get married and get to wear the dress I’ll be happy.
In another timeline, another Allison is having the wedding she planned.
And in that timeline nearly 100, 000 Americans are still alive, as are hundreds of thousands more around the world.
That they are not here with us is the real tragedy of today.
At the end of our times, I pray, another wedding will take place. And the dead will rise; Arlington Cemetery, across the way, will empty; dust will rise up from the streets and form back into towers long-lost.
Then we will have dancing.
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