The Wedding Night

She dressed slowly that evening.

Her gown was white—so white it seemed to gather the last light of the day around her. There was something almost sacred about it. Not because of the dress itself, but because of what it represented.She stood quietly before the mirror, pondering the ivory colored wedding gown with three white roses pinned to her bodice pressed near and against her heart. She was filled with anticipation and joy and a feeling that something was about to change. Innocence was being let go of. Love and passion would now be embraced.  

Tonight was the night she had dreamed of.

She looked down at the side table next to the mirror and on the table in a small glass vase was a single red rose bud. She reached down and without much thought she plucked it up and imbedded the stem into the middle of the three white roses on her dress and thought, “perfect.”  The red rose bud as the center of her floral heart corsage felt perfect.

Three pure white roses.  In the center a red rosebud that had not yet opened.

She did not yet know why it felt so right but only that it did. She knew this symbolized that something was coming.

Something deeper. Something passionate.

Something that would unfold in its own time. And perhaps that is the mystery of love. There is always a moment before the flower opens—a moment of innocence, anticipation, and wonder, when the heart knows that something beautiful is about to begin but cannot yet see exactly what that thing is that is ahead.

She turned once more toward the mirror. Her white gown was ready. She stepped toward the door.

She was ready. 

The Wedding Night

20" x 16" Oil painting on linen

Sometimes a painting arrives before its meaning does. The title The Wedding Night came to me as an epiphany. I didn’t search for it. It simply came—and I felt that I was being given the story behind the painting. For me, the three white roses represent innocence, purity, and anticipation. And that hidden red rosebud? It represents the passion that has not yet revealed itself. It is still waiting. Perhaps that is what makes the beginning of love so mysterious. We can see the promise of what is coming, even before it blooms.

Peace and love

Kristen Ulla Grunewald