A young couple rushes through the
crowd gathered in St. Peter’s Square.
The woman—probably in her early twenties—clutches the hem of her fluffy
white wedding gown. Her other hand is
nestled in the crook of her fiancés elbow; he wears a form-fitting grey suit with
a pink flower tucked into the breast pocket.
The woman wears a similar flower in her hair, which has been pinned back
elaborately for her big day. Despite the stifling heat and commotion of the square, they smile eagerly at
one another.
They met in college—introduced by a
mutual friend at a bar—and found themselves immediately drawn to one another by
a love of traveling. They decided they
would see the world together as soon as they graduated, and are now making
their way across Europe relying on guidebooks and the kindness of
strangers. He can’t remember when it
happened or where he was (Paris?
London? Amsterdam?), but he
remembers being overwhelmed at the realization that he would be content to
explore incredible places with her for the rest of his life.
It was her idea to get married in
Rome so they could have their union blessed by the pope. She comes from a devout Christian family but
never made much of an effort to conform to the ideals. They never seemed to understand her free
spirit, why she would never be happy staying in the same town for the rest of
her life. She knows they’ll be
disappointed in her decision to get married while so far from home, but she
hopes that when she tells them about standing in the middle of St. Peter’s in a
wedding dress, all frustration will be forgotten. She holds onto him tighter as a cardinal begins
to read the English translation of the pope’s blessing.
“The church stresses the
importance of engagement. It is a time
for two people to get to know one another, and prepare of the beautiful and
demanding experience that is marriage…”
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