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</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--></head><body lang=EN-US link=blue vlink=purple><div class=WordSection1><p class=MsoNormal>435 words<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Wedding Days <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>By DeAnna Quietwater Noriega<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> “There! You look pretty enough to go on the top of my wedding cake,” Tabby smiled down at her five-year old sister Tina as she finished adjusting the flowered headband holding back the tumble of dark curls flowing down the small girl’s back. “Now don’t get messed up.” The bedroom door flew open and their mother stood framed in the doorway. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>“Tabby! Can you dress yourself?” <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>“I should be able to manage that, I’ve been doing it for most of the past twenty years!” said the bride-to-be as she turned toward where the sugar crystal organza dress lay across the twin bed in the room she shared with her flower girl sister.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>“Well, I can’t!” cried her frazzled mother. “My zipper’s stuck and Nina says every time she raises her arms up like she is going to fold back your veil, the snaps on her sleeves pop open and they fall back to her shoulders!” <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>“Tabby!” cried Tina, “My hoop-skirt hit me in the face when I twied to sit down!” <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Tabby turned from where she had been gently extricating the fold of blue satin out of the jammed zipper on the back of her mother’s dress. “Mom, look in my little bag there, I have some safety pins you can use to fix Nina’s sleeves. Oh! Don’t cry Tina. You’ll make your pretty brown eyes all red. Here, let me show you how to pick up the back of your hoop so you can sit without it popping up and smacking your nose!” Tabby checked her watch. She really had to get in to the dress and veil pronto! It was almost time for the music to start. She hoped her two grandfathers weren’t coming to blows over union stuff and Uncle John hadn’t started sampling the keg of beer he insisted on buying for the reception.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>***<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>The organ played softly and a rich contralto voice began to sing, “Come Saturday Morning, I’m Going Away with My Friend. As the bride slipped her slender hand through the proffered arm of the distinguished gray haired man at her side, a large black Labrador charged up the aisle trailing a leash and wearing a guide dog harness. She burst in to uncontrolled laughter. “I told you we should have let Tammy be the flower dog or ring bearer!” <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Christopher Grant smiled down at Tabitha, the girl he had married fifty years ago. He exchanged a smile with his sister-in-law Tina, as she finished the song and the renewal of vows ceremony dissolved in to laughter tail wags and hugs all round.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p></div></body></html>