Wedding Fiasco

I was supposed to be at a wedding which is happening in Yachats in 45 minutes. It's my sister-in-laws sister getting married. She invited me three days ago by phone.

I was honored to be invited. It was the very first wedding I've been invited to attend in my entire life. I did not attend either of my brother's weddings. I can't remember why, probably because of being in the mental health system and drugged to the hilt and having no car.

My niece got married. But she got married in Europe. I had no money to fly to Europe. And no passport. The rest of my family went. The marriage did not last but the wedding, in Venice, was likely beautiful.

I told J, the woman who invited me, I have no clothes and she said "no worries, wear what you have".

This morning I desperately searched for something to wear without stains or holes. I have some rain shoes, some hiking type boots and some plastic Kmart velcro fasten sandals. That's my shoe selection. I threw the rain shoes in the car and wore the sandals even though they are beat up and ugly.

I had some gray slacks that fit, but they have one paint stain on one leg. They're from a thrift store, like almost all my clothes. I had to choose those. Everything else I have--old jeans.

I should take heed of advice, given out long ago, by a writer. Which one, I can't remember. "You need one good suit of clothes, for weddings and funerals."

I was ten miles west of Philomath when the nagging question tagged my mind. I could not get it from my mind. "Did I turn off the stove elment after making that last cup of coffee?"

I tried and tried to remember. I did not want to turn around. Once free of the towns, and in the country, I had rolled down my windows and turned up the radio and was already feeling free and looking forward to being on the coast. I don't know if the rest of my family will be over there or not. I never heard from any of them.

I had been invited to my very first wedding. That itself made me feel sky high, like somebody loved me, like my existence had been acknowledged.

But the question of the elment on or off nagged me relentlessly. I've left elments on before, and usually when I think I've left it on, I have.

I turned around. I came back home. The elment was on.

I can't make it now. Guess the invitation was the big deal to me anyhow. Guess that feeling, of being invited to something significant to someone else, is a feeling I like. I will write the newly weds and tell them so.