Keys and Wallet

I can’t believe it’s been over a month since my youngest nephew’s wedding. I told you about the handsome groom, Logan; the gorgeous bride, Danielle, and their entourage of pretty ladies and dashing gents. But there is one moment, perhaps insignificant to other, that stands out in my mind as the most memorable of the lavish affair.

 

We had just been seated in the third row of the Holy Cross in downtown Columbus. A light drizzle was causing hurried guests to scamper into the vestibule, shielding lovely outfits and hairdos from the falling mist. The organ was playing instrumental music.

 

I was sitting in the pew beside my daughter, my son, and his girl. The tall ceilings of the massive edifice were a great distraction from my own thoughts that April afternoon as the rain began to fall in earnest. I kept turning in my seat to make sure it was real: that my brother from Houston, his wife and their 3 grown children were truly there. Along with that beloved crowd sat 2 of my brother’s little grandsons, Braydon and Brady, so cute I thought I could eat them up.

 

It was then that Adam, my sister’s elder boy emerged from the sanctuary and approached me in the pew.

 

“Aunt Leslie, can you please hold Logan’s and my wallets and keys for us. We can’t fit them easily in our tuxedo pockets.”

 

I opened the huge satchel I was carrying, a light blue leather thing that could accommodate an elephant. He dropped the items into the purse and hurried back behind the altar. As Adam left my vision, my eyes filled with tears.

 

The wedding went off without a hitch. The groom was handsome. The bride was lovely. Adam who served as a groomsman, who just turned 31 last week, looked precious too.

 

After the wedding, the crowd of well-wishers from 14 states greeted the new couple in the church vestibule. I stood off to the side, waiting. Finally, it was photo time. That was when I knew my exit had come. I approached Adam and reminded him of the stash of goods I carried in my purse. Adam extended his hands and I set the items in the palm of his hands. I looked at those blue eyes I’ve loved since the day I first saw him in the hospital nursery, the day of his baptism when I was his Godmother, the day he made his communion and confirmation, the day he graduated high school and college. And now as a man.

 

“Thanks, Aunt Leslie,” he said. 

 

“It was my pleasure,” I said in return.

 

Although holding those boys’ wallets and keys was a very small part of the wedding, I knew at that moment they needed someone they could trust, someone who would protect their belongings, someone who loved them. That was me. I was needed. And I smiled.