April showers bring May flowers—or
so the saying goes. While I can’t wait for the flowers, I’m looking forward to
another kind of shower. Next weekend, my daughter, granddaughter and I are
giving a bridal shower for my niece.
Showers are a tradition when women gather
to share in the happiness of one of our own. In our family, we always invite
the young girls, too—mostly so they can share in the fun, but also so they’ll
know how to carry on the tradition.
I love showers. They’re like
birthdays and Christmas rolled into one. There are games that make us laugh and
learn more about the newly engaged. And presents. Boy, are there presents!
Often the bride-to-be encourages the little girl(s) to “help” open the gifts. We
ooh and aah and enjoy the bride-to-be’s enthusiastic thank you’s. We tell her
how much use she’ll get out of this appliance or that. We’ll share our experiences
using such-and-such.
That’s something women do—share.
It’s how we relate to each other. Last year, I blogged about how women are
different from men. I shared insights garnered from a workshop done by Eileen
Dryer at my writers’ retreat. (If you want to read that blog, click here for the link.) From the beginning of time, women
have shared their experiences with one another as a way to help the next
generation—at first, for survival then as a method of connecting.
At a bridal shower, we share in
the bride-to-be’s joy. When I look at my niece, happiness just seems to radiate
from her. When she and her fiancé are together, they look so thoroughly in
love. To some, this may sound sappy, but then I write about happy ever after.
Our books, where the romance is
essential to the story, usually end with the engagement or at least the
declaration of love and promise of a life together. That is just the beginning
of a couple’s life together. Those of us who have been married for a while know
that marriage isn’t all happiness and bliss. Problems spring up that have to be
worked out together. Habits become irritable. Children change the dynamics.
Selfishness spells disaster.
Though we know all that we still
have great hopes for the newly engaged. Perhaps it’s because we see in them
ourselves many, many years ago. We remember how in love we were. I wish there
was a device that could capture a moment of pure happiness. Then, in times of
trouble, the device would allow a person to “see” that happiness. Oh, wait. We
already have that device. It’s called memory.
Next Saturday as I watch friends
and relatives share in my niece’s happiness, I’ll remember how happy I was at
my own showers. Because life added some weird twists to the journey Hubs and I
began forty-plus years ago, that happiness has changed. It’s gotten stronger. I
hope my niece will find that to be true for her and her fiancé.
