Cotton Thing…

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Well.. That’s actually the twist…

I was led to believe that the one year anniversary is paper anniversary. That was not wrong, but apparently that was the US tradition. In the UK, the first wedding anniversary was celebrated with cotton, instead of paper.

Too bad that I knew it a little bit too late. I have prepared a very well thought paper themed anniversary gift: two vintage J.R.R Tolkien’s book, wrapped in a ‘paper’, from newspaper. So, I decided to go on with the gift anyway, and told Mr. Fix-It that I should have prepared something “cotton”.

The best thing about Mr. Fix-It is that he did not even know that there is a difference between the traditions in UK and US. So he was quite happy celebrating either.

So, job done.

Don’t ask me about how we celebrate our anniversary. It was nowhere near romantic. But, seriously, do you really expect any of us being romantic with each other? A little bit more than a year ago, we did not even think of being married whatsoever.

However, closer to the anniversary day, I have been thinking a lot about marriage. Not in a bad way. But, my sister is getting married, and I am worried sick about her, and her relationship.

Not that I don’t trust her fiancee. I think he is a nice person, and he seems really care about my sister and her happiness. He was really polite when I met him, and seems like having a good sense of humour. He tried to bond with my husband, and Mr. Fix-It said that he seems care about what my family thinks about him, and their relationship.

If he seems like a good person, why do I worry so much?

Hm… Do you remember my wedding? I told you that my father was a little bit more emotional than everybody else in the room. What I haven’t told you is what happened between my father and I behind the door, away from everyone else.

It is some kind of tradition in this culture that on a wedding ceremony, father of the bride would give away his daughter in the end of the aisle to the groom. The father and the bride would wait outside the ceremony room, while the groom and everybody else would be in the room waiting. So, there we were, my father and I, outside the registry room, 5 minutes before the vow.

He asked me, probably for the hundred trillions times, “Are you really sure? Are you happy?”

We’re only 5 minutes away, and he was still worrying.

And he told me: “If you are not happy, any time, you remember that you still have our home as yours. You could always come home.”

I was in between laughing and crying when he told me that. It sounds bittersweet and silly, that it just sounds like love. A proper one. But I know, no one told my sister something like that, and probably no one would.

My father has different kind of worry for my sister and I. In his eyes, my sister was the strong, the mature, and the reliable one. In his eyes, I was the one who needs more protection, and nurturing. While I would need a constant reminder that I could always ask my dad’s help whenever I need, my dad believes that my sister is strong enough to fend for herself.

In a way he’s right. My sister is an independent, carefree, intelligent, and beautiful woman, she would survive anyhow. But she is not as tough as my dad thought she is. For me, she is still my baby sister. And I grew up protecting her from the world. Or so I thought.

I worry about her, the way my father worry about me. I worry about her happiness, the way my dad worry about mine. And, therefore, I told her exactly what my dad told me on my wedding day –that she would always have us as her home to come to whenever she’s unhappy.

Oh well, I have few more months to overcome this anxiety about my sister’s wedding. My parents are not so fussy about her wedding, but she has a fussy sister instead. Poor child.

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