My Right To Choose

As Nancy gingerly slid the hair comb into my French chignon, she patted my hair and occasionally glanced at my face to make sure the hairstyle suited me.

It was my wedding day.

Then Mom burst into my dressing room, looking beautiful and glamorous. “Nancy! You should be done with her make-up and hair by now. The minister is here already,” she said, standing behind me and looking at my reflection in the mirror.

I rolled my eyes. “He can wait, Mom. We're almost done.”

“Don't roll your eyes at me.” She tilted her head, studying the hair comb. It's a silver antique comb that I had found in a little shop and it complemented my dress perfectly. “You should have worn the Versace comb I bought for you.”

“No, mom,” I sighed loudly. “It's my day and I'll have what I want and dress how I like.” She scrunched her nose in exactly the way I did sometimes. Nancy chuckled and excused herself, leaving us both alone.

I chose that moment to stare at my engagement ring on my finger rather than look at her. She had wanted some time alone with me but I'd avoided the conversation and her. I knew what she wanted to say and Nancy had unknowingly given her the perfect opportunity.

She pulled a chair closer and cleared her throat. I winced inwardly.

“It's almost time, baby. But it's never too late…are you sure about James—”

“Mom, please stop.” My voice came out hoarse as I snapped, close to tears. “I love you but I also have my right to choose.”

She frowned. “What? Of course, you do. Why are you saying this?”

“I spent my whole life letting you choose because I love you…but I'm not a child anymore.”

She looked at me as though I had suddenly become someone else. Tears slowly welled in her eyes. “Is that what you think, baby?” She still called me baby even at twenty-eight. For some reason, I sighed in relief. Despite the weight of the moment, we were still us.

“No, Mom. It's just the way things have been.” I finally turned to look at her. “I love James but you have to let me start making my own decisions…and it would make me happy if you tried to accept him.”

I stood, gently gathering my train around my hand and turned to leave the room.

“Wait.” She walked towards me and wrapped her arms around me from behind, and whispered. “I'm sorry. I'll always love you. You know that.”

I nodded and then we walked out together.

I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "my right to choose”.

Thank you for visiting my blog.

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