Are you crying on weddings? I do. I am hopeless sentimental. But I am not the only one. My neighbor is even worse. And she is much more younger than I am. So no, it is not my age when my tears are rolling only because I see the look in the eyes from my next-door neighbor as he sees his gorgeous bride standing in the doorway.

They were rolling again this afternoon as she was walking over the red carpet at her fathers arm. A brass band plays the bridal mars. And again as I hear the story of their growing love ending with how last Christmas he ask her to marry him.

Today everything seems right to give Margaretha and Arno their dream wedding. For me it looks like a fairy tale. The beautiful old-timer, the charming historical location in the middle of the woods. The place where princess Wilhelmina lived after world war II. The red carpet, the music. Except in the movies, I think I never experienced how the wedding mars plays as the bride comes in.

This afternoon I go back to celebrate and party. I hope I don’t need my handkerchiefs anymore. Although I don’t know if my neighbor takes enough hankies with her.

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