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It was just as I had seen in my vision, the first of three that I have had. There at the vestibule I stood, looking inside the chapel where afternoon sun filtering in through the stained glass windows cast warm soft lights on the altar. The church was only half full with guests who all stood and looked my way. Far away stood a man waiting for me. To my right stood his father, not mine, about to escort me down the aisle adorned with white organza. In white dress with small pearl trims, white satin opera gloves, white cathedral length veil draping over my bare shoulders and holding a bouquet of white tulips wrapped in white silk, I stepped out onto the white satin lined aisle, convincing myself all the while that the second vision I had just the day before--of impending divorce--was only an imagination.

That was five years ago today. Five years. It now feels no more than a remnant of memory from a life previous to this.