The Bride's Blue Shoes

Something old. 

Something new.

Something borrowed.

Something blue.

For the gazillionth time, Samantha recited the folkloric rhyme in her head instructing brides what to wear on their wedding day for good luck.



Perched on the edge of a white chaise lounge in the bridal suite of the expensive country inn tucked 90 minutes outside of Atlanta, Georgia, Samantha heard the crunch of tires along the gravel road winding around to the back of the old Victorian mansion. A slight breeze ruffled the lace curtains hanging on each of the five large windows with their original wavy glass. 

At that very moment, guests were being instructed where to park by teenagers wearing uniforms and the tuxedoed ushers, long time friends of the groom, were escorting each guest to their seats on the lush, open lawn in the shade of two massive oak trees. The early summer day was mild in humidity, though still warm. 

Samantha wondered how many of the women would be wearing large brimmed hats decked with flowers to protect their delicate complexions from the sun even though it was the 21st century. She silently mused that you could easily guess the age of a woman attending a wedding by whether or not she wore a hat, usually white. 

Samantha paused, her bouffant satin skirt bunched up around her hips exposing her toned legs, with one foot poised to slip into a blue satin pump encrusted with blue crystals and rhinestones. This was her version of "something blue."  


Her life long friend and cousin Melissa, also the bride's maid, had joked that her wedding shoes looked a lot like Dorothy's ruby red slippers only blue instead of red.  

She slipped her foot all the way into the shoe and, standing up, stepped to stand in front of a full length mirror while the rest of the bridal party sipped chilled white wine in an adjoining room. She had asked for a moment alone to collect her thoughts. 

Whatever the bride wants some of the bridal party giggled as they left the room, all smiles and perfectly styled hair and makeup, their satin dresses rustling quietly as they sashayed away.  

Again, Samantha silently ticked off each item as she recited the "something" poem. Something old: her grandmother's pearl broach. Something new: designer wedding dress. Something borrowed: the pearl necklace her father had given her mother at their thirtieth wedding anniversary. Something blue: her shoes.

Samantha lifted her skirt, stretching out one leg and turning her ankle, admiring the way the blue rhinestones caught the light reflected in the mirror. 

Something blue and a sixpence in her shoe, continued the poem. Most people didn't know that last part about the sixpence.

In the eerie quiet of the bridal suite just minutes away from descending the stairs and walking down the aisle to take her place next to her groom, Samantha wondered yet again if marrying Michael was the right thing to do. If he was really the one.   

How'd you like that tidbit of a story? 

I wrote it on the fly based on the writing prompt: what a character holding a blue object is thinking right now from 642 Things To Write About.

I'm totally digging this book. Who knows? Maybe I'll turn this into a novel.