Chapter 19
The wedding was perfect.
Small.
Intimate.
Beautiful.
We got married in the park.
Under an oak tree.
Rosie was the flower girl.
She wore a white dress with pink ribbons.
She carried a basket of petals.
She walked down the aisle first.
Scattering petals.
Smiling.
Laughing.
Then Sarah walked down the aisle.
She was beautiful.
Radiant.
She wore a simple white dress.
Her hair was down.
She carried a bouquet of roses.
I stood at the altar.
Waiting.
When I saw her, my breath caught.
She was even more beautiful than I remembered.
She took my hand.
We said our vows.
Simple vows.
Promises to love each other.
To protect each other.
To stand by each other.
Through everything.
The good and the bad.
The easy and the hard.
Forever.
When the officiant said we could kiss, I kissed Sarah.
And it was perfect.
Rosie cheered.
"Yay! Mommy and Daddy are married!"
Everyone laughed.
We had a small reception afterward.
In a rented room nearby.
There was cake.
And music.
And dancing.
Rosie danced with me.
Then with Sarah.
Then with Emily.
Then with Dr. Lopez.
She was the center of attention.
And she loved every minute of it.
Later that evening, when most people had left, Rosie came up to me.
She was holding something behind her back.
"I made you something, Daddy," she said.
"What is it, baby?"
She pulled out a drawing.
Crayon on paper.
It was a picture of our family.
Three people.
Me.
Sarah.
Rosie.
We were holding hands.
Smiling.
The sun was shining.
There were flowers everywhere.
And at the top, in big, wobbly letters, she had written:
"MY FAMILY"
I felt tears in my eyes.
"It's beautiful, baby," I said. "Thank you."
She hugged me.
"I love you, Daddy," she said.
"I love you too, Rosie," I said. "More than anything in the whole world."
Sarah came over and joined us.
She looked at the drawing.
"It's perfect," she said.
She hugged both of us.
We stood there.
The three of us.
Holding each other.
Surrounded by love.
By the family we had chosen.
By the life we had built.
Together.
I looked at the drawing again.
"My family."
That's what we were.
Not perfect.
Not without scars.
But real.
Loving.
May you like
Strong.
And that was all that mattered.
