The five of us were an unlikely, but closeknit group. All of us had other friends, but we always knew we had each other too.
The first of us to get married was extremely exciting. It was as if we had all become engaged; all of us shopped and planned. Her wedding was amazing. The five of us danced together, arms around each other. We were close, literally and figuratively.
Then the second got engaged. Again, we danced with great simcha at her wedding. The feeling of being left behind was starting to creep in; our first married friend was hiding a baby bump under her dress. But there was still three of us, so the pressure was slight.
Time went on. Our two married friends has babies. We were tantes.
Then, the third girl got engaged. And the fourth. Just like that. We had two weddings to attend, two showers to make, two kallahs to be happy for.
The third wedding passed in a blur. Once again, we did our signature dance, close in more ways than one. Then the fourth wedding arrived. Suddenly, it's the chupah, and I'm standing next to my sheitel clad friends. The music starts up, and selfish thoughts creep into my head. "Someone had to be last...but it wasn't supposed to be me."
The dancing starts. Music blasting, we surround the kallah in joyous circles. It's some time during second dance when the four of us break into the middle for "our" dance. The kallah smiles as she beckons for us to come closer. Our arms link, our smiles soar, and the kallah calls to me, over the music. "Just one more time to do this," she reminds me.
As if I needed the reminder. Dancing ends, and we stay for sheva brachos. We watch our friend as she starts a new life with her husband, completely happy for her. Then each of my friends return to her husband, and I am unsure what to do.
Finally, I leave the hall. I get into the car, I blast the music. It doesn't help that the wedding was far from home. It doesn't help that it's Memorial Day weekend and the traffic is bumper-to-bumper. I have three hours to sit by myself in my car, feeeling what I know I now am: alone.