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Specializing in Compounding For: • Veterinary Prescriptions • Hormones for Men & Women • Autoimmune Diseases • Mast Cell Activation • Allergy Tolerable Doses Voted Best Pharmacy By Press Banner 2020, 2021, 2022 Sunrise, Sunset: Our Mother-Son Wedding Dance Almost time now for our mother-son wedding dance—my great moment to engrave my motherly love into epic history. The grassy hills sur- rounding us glowed gold- en in the sunset. Ceremo- ny was completed, vows vowed, pronouncement proclaimed, kisses kissed. Wedding rings were "warmed" in a ritual: passed around to each guest to lay hands on, two seconds each, for a moment of blessing. When the rings were placed into my hands, all I could think of was how quickly they were taken away, scarcely enough time to conceive of a good prayer. Then commenced the generous flow of com- munal toasting, feasting, cake. Now here I stand, watching my son and his new wife's first dance. Magnetically bonded at superconductor level, they sway in a sunlight halo of their own making, surrounded by admiring family and friends while skylight fades into dusk. Smokey Robinson war- bles their favorite song, the one they danced to for their very first dance, on their very first date, after meeting at their Med School class party in St. Louis: "I - guess - YOU'd- say - WHAT can make me -FEEL this WAY?… my g-i-i-i-rl, MY girl, MY GIRL!" He wraps his right arm firmly around her ivory shoulders. Careful to not tread on her exquisitely embroidered gown's roy- ally long train, he curls his long left arm around her pearl adorned waist, lowers her smoothly, safely, into a luxurious dip and splendid kiss, eliciting ahhhhhs of delight, then ending to raucous applause (my own hoots and claps loudest of all). The bride's father takes his turn, tenderly cradles his daughter in protective arms rocking her. Her silver crowned head rests on his shoulder. My son comes next to me. I stand on tiptoe to whisper up, wayyyy up, into my son's ear, cues for our upcoming choreography, each dance move filled with meaning. The first half symbolizes our past — But — so unfair— how to pack 28 years of life into mere seconds? Nevertheless, the plan is set. We face each other, step apart, bow to honor our partner. This means: "Hello, nice to meet you little baby son, what a miracle you are here in my arms." "Hello mother, I need you night and day." Is this the little girl I by Peggy Pollard, Santa Cruz Waltz & Swing, www.PeggyDance.weebly.com carried? Is this the little boy at play? We rock sideways, syn- chronizing to the slow waltz, for his babyhood that passed slow as molasses. Then forward prome- nade. "Now you can walk, my son, let us go out into the world." I don't remember grow- ing older. When did they? Forward waltz. Cou- ple-spin right. "As you grow agile, now I show you our whole wide world." When did she grow to be a beauty? I waltz under his raised arm, break away, gestur- ing admiringly towards his lovely bride. "See how I am preparing you to be your own man, independent, eventually, someday to find HER, who will replace me as your dearest one." When did he grow to be so tall? I return to my dashing tuxedo-ed son, sweeping my arms up to him. "Whoahhh, you grew so fast, and so handsome!" Wasn't it yesterday when they - were - small? We join hands again, swinging arms sideways like kids. "I played so much with you, holding your chubby little hands: Peek-a-Boo, Hide-N-Go-Seek, Chase- The-Waves." Sunrise, Sunset, Swiftly flow the days "How many days is 27 x 365?" Days that dripped slow as finger paint, gooey as homemade silly putty. Sooooo much playing (fighting too, of course— three boys!). But mostly playing—in backyard, parks, beach, camps. Best of all we played in our creative-themed birthday parties, de- lighting young guests with Dinosaur Barney, Superman (a skinny boy with foam rubber mus- cles) Time Travel (down the slide into the Time Machine!), Olympics, Pirates, and of course Batman. Treasure hunts with clev- erly rhymed clues hidden around the yard, leading eventually to the treasure box of balloons, candy and blowout horns, then later, to Boardwalk Laser Tag and Air Hockey. Sunrise, Sunset Swiftly fly the years Endless years of schools, sports, scouts, church, finding bikes for roads, trails and jumps, boards for skate, surf and snow. In middle school achievements started happening. As each boy realized the deep satisfaction of earning awards, they hungered for more. Each award ceremony memory I stashed away into a trea- sure chest deep in me, now stuffed to overflow- ing. One season following another laden with happiness and tears But unlike the other two, this youngest son, like me, also loved travel and visiting relatives. So our mother-son history is extra packed with adventures to ancestral homelands of north- ernmost North Dakota, Ireland, Scout trips to Yukon trail and Puerto Rico, Catalina camp, and Rotary Uganda. What words of wisdom can I give them? How can I help to ease their way? We waltz forward now with a looser contact, swinging our clasped inside hands to and fro, our outside hands apart and together, lightly touching palm to palm. "Son I have so much more to tell you. But too late. Time is up." Years of dreaming, one year of heavy planning, days of packing and fussing, all for this day, are done. Now they must learn from one another Day … by … day "Here is where I let go of your hands. Your bride is waiting to hold them. Whatever I've given, you must take with you into your future family" Dusk deepens across our valley. Centuries-old oak tree pillars guard the ancient boundaries. The sun sinks further behind sage green hills. Father sways his final sway with daughter and releases her. My turn. "And now the groom and his mother!" Go. We step to center stage. My chiffon over-skirt wafts in the cooling breeze, swirling around my silver-green dress (the dress he chose for me). I face the warm rays of sunlight beaming from my son, surrounded by our cloud of witnesses, living and deceased. At least now I get more than two seconds to pray. At least I now have two full minutes before the DJ cuts the music short (as I was warned). My allotment of 27 years, filled with (defi- nitely imperfect) words and (probably inadequate) deeds is over. Only120 seconds re- mains. It went faster at the end. So fast. Two minutes. Our dance is done. Time for me to let go. I release his chubby little hands, now become large and sure.My boy is gone. Sunset. Sunrise. Grown into a man. His new family begins.