Every Sunday, when the newspaper hits my front lawn, I get a little giddy inside. Well, not exactly when it hits the lawn, as I am usually still dreaming then. I get excited when my husband brings it in and sets it on the kitchen table.
Covered with a thin layer of the morning’s dew, the paper’s plastic cover is bulging from the unusually heavy load of the Sunday ads. I can hear the paper with its fresh weekend sections calling to me, enticing me to drink in its articles.
This Sunday, after glancing through my favorite ads, I made my way to the page of weddings. Generally, this is my Sunday routine, as I like to glimpse into the lives of the brides and grooms. I like to read about their education and find out what they do for a living. I also love to see where they are traveling on their honeymoon, which is never anything less than five stars.
The last couple I read about this week caught my attention, since the company where the newspaper said the groom was employed was the same company where I just began my internship.
How fascinating! I thought to myself. I’ve only been there a few weeks, but I wanted to see if, on the off chance, I happened to know the man.
It was an extremely unusual name, and when I saw it, I recognized it immediately.
According to the article, the couple had gotten married three weeks ago.
Two weeks ago, I started working with the company.
One week ago, as I was getting into my car to leave work for the day, the wind caught my car door, flung it wide open, and dented the truck next to me. This happened all in a matter of seconds, and I probably could not have hit the car harder if I tried to do it on my own.
Being a convicted person, I left a note explaining the situation and leaving my contact number for them to call me. The next day at work, there was a voice mail waiting for me from a very kind and understanding man, whom I now realize had just returned to work from his honeymoon.
Unfortunately, a dent in the passenger’s rear door was my pathetic wedding gift to the newly wed couple I saw in Sunday’s newspaper.
Maybe I can ask my insurance company to include a crystal wedding picture frame in the settlement.