Far From Perfect

By Mimi Kopulos

December 19, 2008 5 min read

FAR FROM PERFECT

"Forever young" comes to life during a child's wedding

Mimi Kopulos

Creators News Service

"They look so young," I whispered in my husband's ear.

"They're the same age we were when we married," he whispered back.

Megan and Mike met in junior high and began dating their sophomore year of high school. After graduation they went off to different colleges -- Megan to Kansas State University and Mike to Loyola University of Chicago. Now here they both were crazy in love and about to say, "I do." Life as they know it will never move slow again.

Take it from me. It seems like yesterday when our daughter Scrappy stormed through the front door and screamed: "That new girl Megan and her friend Haley carved JoJo's and my initials into the treehouse! She wrote 'JoJo and Scrappy are in love!'" JoJo grew up across the street from us. There were more times than not I felt JoJo's mother and I shared the same uterus.

Through osmosis my daughter's hysteria reached me. "That's it! I'm calling her mother," I snapped.

Clearly, Megan's mother could hear how upset I was. Still she remained composed. "I'll talk to Megan about this. ... " Dead air. I sensed her eyes rolling back inside her head and her thinking "Get a life, lady." "It was nice talking to you. Let's get together sometime."

Meet Megan, age 10. She had curly brunette hair and Precious Moments blue eyes. She stood 4 feet 8 inches tall, with a voice to match. What she lacked in size she made up in attitude. She stopped by our house to give Scrappy a friendship ring and a written apology. She drew a button and wrote: "If ever you need me, press this button, and I'll be there."

By the end of the week, I knew all about Megan. "She went to Montessori School -- what's Montessori School?" asked my daughter. "She has two super cute big brothers and a little sister. Her dad designs golf courses. Her mom is really, really cool ... she works in a flower shop. They have a dog named Bear!" That was 1994.

"Are you sure we can't list Megan as a tax deduction?" I asked my husband. Megan was no longer an extra plate at our dinner table -- she was part of our family. She had her own bedroom at our house and vacationed with our family. She was present after the birth of our youngest daughter. Megan even changed our little one's diapers when Scrappy told her, "She can wait 'til my mom gets home." Together our families celebrated our daughters' birthdays and high school and college graduations, and now we were about to celebrate Megan's wedding.

Meet Megan today, age 24, and about to be married. While her bridesmaids paced nervously about as if they were the ones getting married, Megan remained calm. Hidden away inside the bridal dressing room, Megan stood in front of the three-way mirror and examined her reflection from all sides.

She wore a magnolia-colored, vintage-style strapless gown. It was embroidered and adorned with hundreds of tiny beads and sequins that shimmered when she moved. Every adjective ever written in Brides Magazine described how she looked that day: Stunning, beautiful, radiant and, most of all, happy.

Our daughter Scrappy walked down the aisle as if she were headed for the nearest fire exit. "Slow down," I mouthed. After the rest of the bridal party walked down and took their places, the organist played "Here Comes the Bride."

Out of nowhere I remembered an early scene: Scrappy and Megan were 12 years old at the time. I found a roll of film in the kitchen drawer and took it to Photos-While-U-Wait. One photo after another -- 24, to be exact -- dropped into the photo bin. Photos of Scrappy and Megan dressed in my clothes and posing in front of the fireplace. Little women behaving like little girls. Forever young ... that's how I will always see them.

Mike and Megan's eyes locked in an expression that said, "I love you."

"He'll take good care of her," my husband whispered in my ear.

"They'll take good care of each other," I replied.

To find out more about Mimi Kopulos and read her past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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