Through the Door to Change by Stacey DC
She stared at the door. Once she opened it and walked through her life would change forever. She was ready for it. At least she thought she was ready for it. She had spent months planning for this day. She had the right clothes, the right hair, the right place. She clutched the flowers in her clammy hands. Their sweet sent rose up to her nose. Slowly she relaxed, unclenched her hands and set the flowers back down on the table.
It wasn’t quite time yet. I wouldn’t be much longer but not just yet. It was all about timing now. And that scared her because that gave her time to fret. She started to pace, swishing her skirt around her legs. One, two, three, four, five, turn. Repeat. The rustle of her skirt actually calmed her down, almost as if it was a white noise. She needed that. She needed some peace. Or maybe just something else to think about.
What else was there to think about? Would the food be okay? Would the music be okay? Was it too hot out? Or would it rain? Would everything go as planned? Was everything going as planned?
She moved her hand to her mouth before catching herself. She stopped just before her hand passed her lips. Then she fanned out her hand and saw the fancy nail job. A subtle French manicure was just not something she did every day. Though she did like clean nails she was not much for painting them anymore.
There was the door. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told her on three minutes had passed. She sighed. Was she ready for this step? She walked over to the mirror. On the counter was scattered various items of make-up; lipstick, rouge, eyeliner, and other things she wasn’t sure what they were. Her best-friend had brought them and applied them and she still was trying not to touch her face to not smear anything.
A glance into the mirror told her she was pretty, maybe even beautiful. A smile crossed her face. How could things not be perfect when she looked so right? In the mirror she saw the door again. And this time the door did not fill her with apprehension. She would be alright. She was doing the right thing. This would all work out for the best.
The door cracked opened. “Sweetie, it’s time.” A man in a suit stuck his head in the door. “Are you ready?”
A genuine smile crossed her faced. “Dad!” She paused. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
Her father opened the door and stepped into the room. He opened his arms up. “Oh, my. You look beautiful.” His eyes teared up. “I can’t believe this is the day. You grew up so fast.” She started to move to give her dad a hug but he moved out of the way. “I don’t want to muse your dress, Sweetie.” He put his hands on her shoulders.
“Daddy,” she said, using the name she had not used in so many years but came immediately to her lips on this day.
Her father slid his hand down her arm and linked them together. “Shall we do this? Are you ready?”
She glanced at the open door. “Yes,” she said confidentially. “I’m ready.”
Her father escorted her out the door. As he closed the door behind his daughter he heard the music start. It was time to give his little girl away.
It wasn’t quite time yet. I wouldn’t be much longer but not just yet. It was all about timing now. And that scared her because that gave her time to fret. She started to pace, swishing her skirt around her legs. One, two, three, four, five, turn. Repeat. The rustle of her skirt actually calmed her down, almost as if it was a white noise. She needed that. She needed some peace. Or maybe just something else to think about.
What else was there to think about? Would the food be okay? Would the music be okay? Was it too hot out? Or would it rain? Would everything go as planned? Was everything going as planned?
She moved her hand to her mouth before catching herself. She stopped just before her hand passed her lips. Then she fanned out her hand and saw the fancy nail job. A subtle French manicure was just not something she did every day. Though she did like clean nails she was not much for painting them anymore.
There was the door. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told her on three minutes had passed. She sighed. Was she ready for this step? She walked over to the mirror. On the counter was scattered various items of make-up; lipstick, rouge, eyeliner, and other things she wasn’t sure what they were. Her best-friend had brought them and applied them and she still was trying not to touch her face to not smear anything.
A glance into the mirror told her she was pretty, maybe even beautiful. A smile crossed her face. How could things not be perfect when she looked so right? In the mirror she saw the door again. And this time the door did not fill her with apprehension. She would be alright. She was doing the right thing. This would all work out for the best.
The door cracked opened. “Sweetie, it’s time.” A man in a suit stuck his head in the door. “Are you ready?”
A genuine smile crossed her faced. “Dad!” She paused. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
Her father opened the door and stepped into the room. He opened his arms up. “Oh, my. You look beautiful.” His eyes teared up. “I can’t believe this is the day. You grew up so fast.” She started to move to give her dad a hug but he moved out of the way. “I don’t want to muse your dress, Sweetie.” He put his hands on her shoulders.
“Daddy,” she said, using the name she had not used in so many years but came immediately to her lips on this day.
Her father slid his hand down her arm and linked them together. “Shall we do this? Are you ready?”
She glanced at the open door. “Yes,” she said confidentially. “I’m ready.”
Her father escorted her out the door. As he closed the door behind his daughter he heard the music start. It was time to give his little girl away.