A Princes Grows Up

Yes, my alarm is set for the painfully early West Coast coverage of Prince William's Marriage to Kate Middleton. Not because I particularly care to see a proper English wedding play out, or a surprise designer gown revealed but because in a nostalgic way, I feel it represents a sort of milestone in my own life. As a child I worshiped Princess Diana. For all the same reasons everybody else adored her. Because she had a keen sense of style, because she seemed human in a super surreal setting and appeared sincerely affected by the causes attached to her name, and yet sad, in spite of all the perks, and couture gowns, and jewels at her fingertips. Once she had her boys I feel in love with watching her as a mother. Tearing photos from the tabloid mags in the supermarket of her with her babies in the park, boys clad in those beautiful old fashioned rompers, visiting Prince Charles at the navel base in matching uniforms or lunching with the Queen in her garden at Easter. When we lost her I ached for those boys. Sons forced to grow into royal men amidst their mother's mere shadow left to guide them. Praying, like the rest of the world, they would be Ok. 

So Friday, for me, is less about catching an Elton John sighting, or seeing how everything comes together with the threat of rain looming still, but to breath a sigh of relief, to think that maybe, just maybe Prince William grew up and found a girl who will fulfill him. On a modern, realistic level. In spite of those old world fairytale expectations his mother and father could never fully escape.