Loree Sandler
“Leslie left this for you,” my husband, Bob, says, handing me a puffy, sealed envelope.
Friends and family have been streaming into Mexico City for our son, Ian’s, wedding, stopping at the hospitality suite to say hello.
Instead of hanging around the hotel welcoming guests, I’d been out on a walking tour, apparently missing as much as I’d seen.
Leslie is a forever friend, a memory-keeper, and creative gift-giver. She was once a scrapbook queen - saving everything from concert tickets to camp letters. When Bob proposed to me, Leslie presented a crystal stand for my engagement ring. Years after our “tie-the-knot” themed rehearsal dinner, she gave Bob and me a remnant of the silky black cord that had adorned our centerpieces.
I unseal the envelope and extract a white cloth and card.
Happy Mother of the Groom Day. This handkerchief was my grandmother, Lillian’s. May you use it for happy tears….”
The cloth has scalloped corners embroidered with yellow thread. Each scallop hugs a knotted dot. A white, cursive “L” in one corner is surrounded by more tiny dots.
Tears spring to my eyes. The gift embodies everything: relationships, history, this moment. It is personal and universal. Mothers of the groom don’t play starring roles, but we’re not extras, either.
At the elevators I bump into Julie, the friend I toured with, and read her the card. Weeping again, I don’t use the hankie. It’s too precious.
When I dress for the “Welcome Fiesta,” I tuck the handkerchief into my purse.
This night before the wedding is for cocktails, tacos, and toasts. Ian and Helena face the platform as friends and family step up to speak. Whenever I glance her way, Helena is running a finger below her eyes, trying not to smudge makeup.
“Here,” I mouth, passing the hankie. She nods appreciation, dabs her tears.
With each new story there are fresh laughs, fresh tears. Everyone is loving up this couple. My soon-to-be daughter is glowing.
After the toasts, I glance again. Ian and Helena are holding hands. No handkerchief. I scan the floor and nearby tables. Crumpled paper napkins, but no scalloped cloth. A crowd surrounds the couple now. It would be poor form to plow through and break the spell.
Leslie should not have entrusted me with this gift!
“Just ask her” Bob says, when his search also comes up empty.
I ask Ian instead.
“She gave it to Sebi,” Ian reports.
Bob makes a beeline for Sebastian, Helena’s younger brother. I hold my breath.
Triumphant, Bob returns. Handkerchief in hand.
“Sebi didn’t even know it was in his pocket!” Bob reports. “He’d make an easy mark.”
When I’d first thanked Leslie, she said, “us L’s have to stick together.”
But I think it’s all us women - us L’s, us friends, us granddaughters, mothers of the groom, mothers in law. Each of us need someone to stick with, even when our tears are happy.