Running on Two Different Tracks by Eileen Stukane

Author:Eileen Stukane [Stukane, Eileen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: true stories, short reads, novelette, memoir, motherhood, contemporary women, contemporary women nonfiction
ISBN: 9781940838786
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I had a Foster Care Orientation meeting on my summer calendar, and I was at last envisioning myself as the parent of a child when the call came from Jason that he and Bianca were getting married in September 1995. His announcement was unexpected. Although we knew he was crazy about Bianca and might want to marry her someday, he was moving things along fairly fast. David thought Jason should have given this big step more contemplation, but Jason had just turned 30, which is often a birthday of assessment: Am I where I want to be in life? He was ready.

On the wedding day in Ravenna, we met outdoors at the condominium building where Bianca’s mother and stepfather lived. This was the first time we saw Jason in his tuxedo with hunter green satin cummerbund and matching green bow tie. His dark, curly hair was shorn close to his head. His smile was broad, his whole being joyful. We marveled at his command of the Italian language, which he had taught himself to speak. Tenacity was woven into his personality; it brought him success in learning a language, building a business, and winning over a woman. He easily chatted and mingled among Bianca’s aunts and uncles. “Looks like you’re really doing it,” David said to his son. “Guess so,” answered Jason as father and son embraced. There they were, different editions of the same book, similar stances, same square shoulders, oval-shaped faces, matching head tilts, mirror grins. The powerful bond of genetics!

Arriving at the Piazza del Popolo, we stepped out of the car into a crowd that had gathered under the arches of the Palazzo Communale, or town hall. This was not a bureaucratic building but a 15th-century palace converted into various offices, with a “Wedding Hall,” which I later saw was a large room with somber olive green decorative wall covering and light fixtures that held flame-shaped bulbs. A red carpet on the ancient stone stairs created a royal path from the street up to the high gated entrance into the Palazzo. I reached out for David’s hand so as not to lose him among the coiffed men and women in formal wear and took a photo of Jason standing at a distance in the square, his head typically listing toward his left shoulder, a look of adoration on his face as Bianca emerged from a limousine. She appeared a vision of earthly beauty in her floor-length, scoop-necked, white bridal gown with its hunter green satin sash matching the width and color of Jason’s cummerbund.

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