When Elsa married Trevor, what a beautiful day it was! They were married on the edge of a (safe) cliff overlooking the sea. The sun shone. The guests faced the view of the ocean with the groom looking handsome, and Elsa herself in the most beautiful white wedding gown and with a bouquet of red carnations. The bridal party was placed to one side, with the marriage celebrant on the other. These assistants were far enough back so as not to ruin the focus on the two getting married: simply Elsa and Trevor before the grandeur of the expanse of sea. Alone, yet together facing the expanse of their futures!
Preparation for the wedding had taken over a year. And the expense! Flowers! Dainty white ribbons on each chair! The cake! The... Oh! Even the bridesmaids’ red carnation posies were made up of ever-so-slightly-smaller-red carnations than those on the bride’s bouquet.
And the music! A friend sang Ave Maria and Panis angelicus, and a string quartet played the second movement from Haydn’s String Quartet, Op. 76, No. 3. Not to mention the reception afterwards, and how fantastic it was. Beautiful! Beautiful! Simply beautiful! What a wonderful memory!
All was videoed, of course. It was a permanent reminder of that loveliest of days. Elsa watched it every day for two weeks after they got back from their honeymoon in Bali. On viewing, there were a few things at the wedding she might have changed. They were minor little things, such as providing sugar cubes with silver tongs at the reception instead of loose sugar and teaspoons. But it was almost perfect.
After a while, the video was forgotten. Elsa got on with life. She had a new job. She made new friends. One moves on constantly. Life changes.
Four years later, she found the video and watched it.
“Is that all it was?” thought Elsa. “I thought it was a lot more beautiful than that. Memories are better than videos. Nothing can capture a memory.”
She threw the video in the trash. The following week her divorce came through. She had another wedding to prepare.