THE FLUFF SPEECH

My daughter’s wedding was one of the most beautiful I had ever attended. Other than my own, it was certainly the first wedding that I was personally involved in. She lived in Birmingham, AL. It is approximately one hundred miles away from my husband and I, but had chosen to have her wedding in a small chapel very close to our home in Guntersville, AL. As Kara is somewhat of a perfectionist, the details were planned very meticulously through multiple visits and phone calls to our area.

 A few days prior to the wedding, Kara came to stay with us to make sure everything was in order and to finalize the finishing touches for her special day. All of the big items on her check-list (flowers, caterer, minister, etc.) had been taken care of months before.  We still had a few, seemingly small things left to do. For example, we still had to wrap the bridesmaids’ gifts. I was very excited that we were going to get to spend some mother-daughter time together before her wedding.  Kara and I have always been very close. She is not only a daughter, but also an incredible friend. What happened next was very out of character for us. 

 I had decided at the last minute that I would buy some vases to go on the main table at the reception for the bridesmaids to place their bouquets in. I had seen a picture of a reception in a wedding magazine and thought it added a lot of pizzazz to the table, rather than having the bouquets lying around on the table like most folks in the South do.

 The day before the wedding, Kara and I tackled the job of wrapping gifts. We had stayed up to late the night before and both of us were tired and snappy.  When I told her my idea of placing the vases on the tables and that I had bought ribbon to tie around the vases, she was not excited about the idea as I was. Also, she certainly did not like the ribbon I had chosen.  Due to my own personal stress, I immediately went on the defensive.  It was expensive ribbon and I had spent hours of my time trying to find “just the right thing.”  I will spare you the details of that conversation, but she was snappy and I was huffy right back! That started an avalanche of “snippy” conversations for the remainder of the day.

 The next morning, after some much needed rest, we were refreshed and back to our usual loving, joking selves. My husband, however, felt an intervention was still needed.  He came into the kitchen and called us over to his side.  He put one arm around Kara’s shoulder and the other around mine.  In a very loving, concerned (but stern) tone he said, “Girls, I do not like what happened here yesterday. You two are getting hung up on details and things that just do not matter. The most important thing to remember is that Kara will marry Bobby and they will begin an incredible life together. Everything that has happened up to this point is ‘only fluff.’ It certainly is not worth hurt feelings and harsh words….it is “just fluff.”

 The “Fluff Speech,” as it is fondly referred to now, really put things into perspective for Kara and I.  The remainder of that day went smoothly. We were more careful of the other’s feelings and how we spoke to one another. The story doesn’t end there!!!

 During the ceremony, as Kara and Bobby turned from lighting the Unity Candle, Kara’s dress caught on the candelabra. She tripped and fell down. As Bobby tried to steady her, he grabbed the pearl bracelet she was wearing and it snapped.  Tiny pearls hit the floor and scattered everywhere.  As the wedding guests were having an “oh-no moment,” my daughter sweetly looked over to the pew where Pete and I were sitting and dismissed the incident with a wave of her wrist. Kara said, “Don’t worry about it guys…it’s just fluff.” 

 Of course, after the ceremony all the guests wanted to know what she had said to us. We had to explain Pete’s “Fluff Speech” more than once.  On occasion, we have friends call to jokingly say, “Things are getting stressed here! Can Pete can come over and deliver the Fluff Speech?” If we had had more daughters to get married, I actually think it would become a family tradition.

 Thank you,

Gwen G. Dwyer