When Kate Middleton and Prince William got married last Friday, I found myself surprisingly sentimental about the whole thing. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to feel anything. I remember sort of ignoring the big Charles and Lady Di event although my mother did get up early to go to a friend’s house to celebrate with champagne and scones at 4AM.
Being in my early twenties in 1981, I’m sure that 4AM was way too early to support my lifestyle.
But I feel different about this royal wedding. I think it’s because I’ve got another 30 years of life under my belt. I’ve come to realize just how rare and wonderful and painful human hope is. I’ve seen dreams die. Some of the deaths are long and lingering while others are sharp and cynical. I’ve gotten really good at keeping on track of my goals and ignoring the ups and downs of emotional drama that come along the way. Yes, my life is calmer now but lately I’ve been wondering if I’ve lost the ability to feel?
Now I know the answer is no, I do still feel and I know that because I thought ‘good for you’ when I saw Kate and William driving away from Buckingham Palace. I felt myself hoping that they would find some happiness together. I hope that William is man enough to stand up to the lunatic royal protocol and protect his wife the way his father Charles never did for Diana. I hope that Kate (now Catherine with a ‘C’) can keep herself grounded enough to bring joy to their lives so they don’t end up mired in lifeless royal function.
And because this wedding took my mind off of the discussion of presidential birth certificates, killer tornadoes, nuclear meltdowns and war, if even made me wonder if I should be writing romance instead?
