On my right sits the widowed grandfather. On my left sits the stepmother. We await the arrival of the bride and groom. Their entrance will signal a grand applause for this newlywed husband and wife.
"The next time I get married,” the ninety-three-year old gentleman states unabashedly, “I want to have a Jewish wedding. I want you to officiate. Will you?"
"Most certainly," I assert giggling like a schoolgirl. “How long was your first marriage?"
"My marriage with my late wife lasted 68 wonderful years," he reminisces.
The stepmother overhears our conversation.
"I might find you a special somebody," she states unabashedly. "Here’s my card. I am a professional matchmaker!"
The applause begins.
The young married couple takes to the dance floor.
I clap and sigh into the love field that is stretched before and beside and beyond.