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Saturday, June 8, 2030

M om is seated in her wheelchair at the center of the aisle.

As the final part of the ceremony comes to an end, my mom excitedly shouts, “You may now kiss the grooms!”

Damien and Aaron wind their arms around one another’s necks, their lips locking in a passionate kiss. As they pull apart, the whole crowd hoots and hollers, waving tiny rainbow flags with big smiles plastered across their faces.

Several of Aaron’s friends shoot off rainbow confetti cannons as the happy couple dances their way down the aisle and off to their reception.

Lark blows me a kiss, which I catch, pressing it into my chest just over my heart.

She shoots me a wink and heads off toward the reception area, realizing I need a moment alone with my mom.

Mom’s eyes meet mine, and I reach out my hand for hers. She squeezes it, pressing a kiss to the top .

“Alex would be so proud,” she tells me quietly.

I smile, knowing for certain that, as usual, she’s right.

”Yes, yes, he would,” I whisper.