To Melissa

My Darling Melissa,

One week from today you will turn into Cinderella for a night and walk down that aisle to your handsome Prince Charming and in the blink of an eye turn from a Miss to a Mrs.…and not just for a night. For the rest of your life. Several days later while you and Colin are on your honeymoon, I will meet the movers at your apartment and see your things off to Atlanta where the two of you will begin your lives together. I have no idea what is ahead but of this I am certain: Colin will not be bored. We certainly never have been.

That you are such a whirlwind and always have been is why your sudden presence and sudden absence is always so jarring. You don’t just love a four-shot Grande Non-fat Cappuccino, Honey. You are one. But make no mistake. Not a dry one. You’ve always been a force. Sometimes a force that needed a spanking but usually a force that needed applauding. What an amazing young woman you are is evident is countless ways, not the least of which is that you’ve waited till your wedding for certain joys though you were born with a rebellious streak a mile long and to such inarguably flawed parents. You are five feet nine-inches of delicious dichotomy. Both intense and hilarious. With the temper of a panther and the passion of a ten-pound pack of firecrackers in a candle store. With the look a fashion mogul and a weakness for muscle cars. You have to be with people…then you have to get away from them. You are the same one who grew up to say to me emphatically, “I disagree with you on that,” with one breath and, “I’m obsessed with you,” with the next. You have the prowess of an athlete and the mind of a scholar. A contemporary theological thinker…with liturgical taste.

Where on earth did you come from?

Things are quieting down after four whirlwind months of wedding planning and I am letting myself feel the full emotion of the occasion today…so we can save next Saturday for rejoicing. Your sister is feeling it, too. She just called with tears – not the mournful kind but the sentimental kind, the awed kind – and said the same words with which I began this letter, “A week from today, Mom!” Twenty-five years ago, that romantic little idealist got more than she bargained for in a baby sister and wouldn’t trade you for anybody else’s boring sibling for anything in the world. The same one who finally – after years of provocation – hauled off and hit you when you guys were teenagers will stand beside you next Saturday and take your bouquet as Colin slips a wedding band onto your finger. You will be loved dearly by every young woman on that platform a week from today…but by none so much as her. She alone will be able to stand beside your parents and wave and flash-back to a thousand family snap-shots, both beautiful and painful, as you drive away from the reception with your groom.

“The four Moores,” we’ve always called ourselves. Crazy as loons. Thick as thieves.

How many times have I said, “Melissa Moore? ME-LIS-SA MOORE!”? Your four-syllable name sounded like four notes ascending in brisk staccato on a keyboard from Middle C to F. A week from today Melissa Moore will become Melissa Moore Fitzpatrick. (And, no, for the five-hundredth time, you cannot hyphenate your name.) With that wonderful addition to your name come a bounty of additions to our lives. We are crazy about Colin, Honey. You were right about him. He is wonderful and so kind. How blessed could I be to have two sons-in-laws like Curtis and Colin? Remember when you told your sister that you weren’t going to marry until you found a man that loved you like her man loves her? I do believe you happened on him, didn’t you? Married life is hard, Baby Girl, but it is good. We commend you into Colin’s arms and bid that you would never leave them…nor ever threaten to. You will inevitably fight but you can make the choice to fight well. Fights are worth having when they’re for your marriage. And for one another. Never stay mad. Be people who kiss and make-up quick.

No time to keep carrying on. After all, I’ve got somewhere to go. In just a few hours, I’ll meet you at the studio for your bridal portrait. I’ll zip you into your dress and help you put on your shoes under all those blinding layers. I’ll place your veil in your hair and clasp your necklace. As you put on your earrings, I’ll laugh with you over the fun we had at Saks Fifth Avenue getting them for what we thought was a fortune and the clerk thought was pocket change. (I could have sworn he rolled his eyes and sniffed as we high-fived. Maybe we should have waited till we got in the car.) Today I’ll also probably tell you to put on a little more lipstick. And you probably won’t. Next week we’ll do it all for keeps and I’ll have a second chance to smooth your veil and bustle your hem. That glorious day you will be Mr. Colin Daniel Fitzpatrick’s bride. Today, in this mother’s heart, however, you are just my baby girl playing dress-ups.

Go forward, Darling Child, with this public blessing and commendation to flee the proverbial nest and fulfill the plan God has for you and your man. It is right. It is good. And we rejoice withholding absolutely nothing. Thank you for the ride…and for the promise of many more as the family vehicle gets bigger and bigger. I place you in the hands of your faithful Creator and nod with reassurance of His love for you. I’ve seen Him shamelessly demonstrate it countless times. Your dad and I will miss the intensity of the relationship we’ve shared these many wonderful years with you. Our appropriate loss will be exceeded, however, by the ecstatic joy of you having married well. And, oh, the beautiful sight of your smiling face coming down the escalator at Houston Intercontinental Airport when Mrs. Colin Fitzpatrick flies home for a few days to see her parents. I’ll have the comforts on the stove.

Until then, on those Georgia mornings when you awaken and every now and again wish you were little once more and upstairs in parents’ home, if you’ll listen very carefully, you will hear a voice down deep in your heart saying, “Good morning, Little Sweetie. This is the day the Lord has made!” And you’ll feel right at home.

“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.”

Mom




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