Wedding wanderings

I watched the little ring bearer walk down the aisle with a determined look on his face. The pillow was tucked beneath his arm and his stride was purposeful, his gaze forward on his goal, and he was the perfect example of a person being oblivious to the world around him, including the insistant whispered pleas by his mom to turn the pillow upright.

The other ring bearer had it down right; pillow upright, carefully balanced on well spaced hands and a smile for all of the audience to enjoy and "ahhhh" about. His stride was of a proper length at a proper cadence, bringing him to stand by the groom at a proper time. His mother wasn't having to whisper pleas to him because he was pegging plaudits while presenting a personal peremptory passage on pristine propriety of podium protocol. Elegant in all matters of bearing rings, this boy was the elite, the paragon of proficiency.

The previously mentioned plebian paled in comparison to this champion of ring bearers, but there was something in his intent, perhaps his stride, that captured your attention, hog-tying it in record time demanding your notice of his place in this world. He defied convention and thrived on being his own "man" as he marched down the aisle, refusing to free the laced pillow from underneath his arm until he reached the waiting gaggle of groomsmen. After all, it was a sham, a carrier of faux precious rings made of plastic, sewn onto the pillow. If he was a true ring bearer, then perhaps he would've bowed to convention and embraced the graceful entrance of his counterpart.

I would like to think this young lad will make a great leader one day as he obviously doesn't mind cutting through the bull hockey and seeing the world for what it is; one symbolic ceremony after another with the raw blatant truth rarely being exposed. I tip my pillow towards the youngster. May he always be that determined, that confident, and that willing to stride forward in a world full of whispering critics, ignoring their pleas for compliance.