Select Entry - Rochelle Moore, Age 43

Welcome to our Optimistic Essay category. Here you will find the $1,000 winning contest essay, 5 finalist essays and 15 honorable mention essays and a growing list of hand-picked select essays that readers submitted during our "Why Are You Optimistic About the Future?" contest.

I am going to bring you on a voyage of complete and utter chaos...yes, my wedding day. The reason that I selected this story is due to the non-stop disasters which followed one after the other. I am going to show you how if you remain optimistic that you can overcome anything and enjoy yourself, no matter what. The future for everyone can and is created by your own outlook on life.

The wedding date had been set for February 16th and the usual arrangements and inner family pecking-order had to be finalised. Who would be my maid-of honor? Who would be my flowergirl? Both of these were realtively easy as

I only have two sisters, Orla and Niamh, so that was not a problem. Then came the Groom Richard who selected his younger brother David to do the honors on the big day. Part one simple and sorted.

Next came the choice of wedding dresses, bridesmaids dresses, flowergirls dresses, mother's suit and grooms, bestmans attire. This took a little longer than I expected however with a little bit of extra effort I had

managed to sail with relative ease through the sea of bridal gowns. Mother had her suit, I had my dress and all the other main characters of the day were kitted out fully.

So, now to the hotel, table layout, menu selection and of course the cost of this lavish affair. I had a look around various possibilities and eventually settled on a hotel in Bray which faced out over the beautiful sea. I arranged the menu, table settings, choice of centrepiece, the band and disco and everything was overseen by my mum who is a wizard at organising. This now was totally booked and ready for the big day.

The invitations, flowers, wedding cars, priest, church and rings were next on the agenda. My future intended and I went around to the local Church and had a nice cup of coffee with the priest and booked the church with great

east. The priest was a bit of a character which I thought would greatly enhance the day and make for a wedding which would not be too dragged out or boring.

The invitations were printed, mother ordered the flowers, the wedding cake and wedding cars. It was up to Richard and I to buy the rings which also was achieved with great ease.

Next, the sending of the invitations, the seating arrangement for the top table, where the bride and groom would be enthroned, the arrangements as to whom speaks to whom and where to put the old holy molies (irish term for the guests that always have to have a great position where they are close to the top table and yet are far enough away that you can't hear them complaining). This took longer than expected and I never realized just how many of our family members could not stand the sight of one another. However, after much reshuffling and rearranging the seating arrangements for the reception was finally drawn up and agreed. So, all was in place and the only thing that was left was for the bride and groom to turn up on the big day. Or so we thought!

It was a Saturday morning, one week to the day before the wedding and my chief bridesmaid Orla, my sister, broke her leg whilst walking towards her car on a slippery icy-morning. You would have thought that this was a sign of things to come, but not me, the eternal optimist. Orla returned home from the hospital with a cast the size of Ireland however her beautiful bridesmaids dress could easily cover this the only problem seeemed to be that she had difficulty in mastering the ability to walk with crutches. She had a week, all would be fine on the day.

On the Tuesday morning, four days before the wedding, I came down with a mild form of the flu. It was not enough to place me in my bed however I had aches and pains in places that I did not ever think existed...never mind, on

with the show. By the Wednesday the phonecalls started from our guests, about three-quarters of them also had the flu, however, they had it bad. My youngest sister Niamh who was my flowergirl began to grow a coldsore the size of a grapefruit by the Thursday and we all knew that this was going to be still a main feature on her face on the big day.

In total fifteen out of two hundred guests had to call in sick with the flu. This was not the end of the world so I soldiered on and readied myself to be the new Mrs Moore. By now I could see my mother and father trying to bravely put on a face and not give into the symptoms of their own flu symptoms. They proceeded, with aches, chills and pains, to ensure that all the last minute arrangements were in place and that nothing else would go amiss. Or so they thought.

It was now the Friday night, the eve of the big joining forever in matrimony with my future intended. The time was 8.30pm when the phone rang. Yes...more problems, the man who owned the Hotel and was also the Chief Chef had died. The reception had to be moved to another hotel and they had the courtesy to arrange that it be held in Enniskerry. So, out with the address book and everyone in the house had to take a phone and ring the remaining guests to tell them of the sudden change of plan. This took about two hours and by the time it was over I was exhausted.

Richard my future husband did not want a stag night and he decided to stay over in his house in Dublin and have a quite night in. Once again, best laid plans, etc. It was around 8pm when the doorbell rang and his friends piled into his house to give him a send off that he would not forget. They drank and were merry until about 3am in the morning as nothing was going to get in the way of their merriment prior to Richard being handed over to the

ball-and-chain the next morning.

Richard woke the morning of the wedding with a hangover that could crack stones. He had a appointment at 10am with a private hairdresser and decided to take his motorbike instead of the car which would allow the wind full permission to blast in his face and wake him up. He was late for the appointment due to cutting his face in four places whilst shaving. I think it was the shakes from the previous nights entertainment and he looked llike

he was dragged through a bush backwards. He finally made it and went home to get dressed for the big wedding which was booked for 2pm. Or was it?

In my parents house there was a hive of activity as we tried to cover up Niamh's gigantic coldsore, ensure that Orla could balance on her crutches in order to walk down the isle and hand out tablets liberally to all who had

the flu. Ok, we made it this far and I was spared from the knowledge about Richard's condition. The new hotel had assured us that all was in order even though they only had one night to fix up the room for our reception. Nothing else could go wrong...i was sure of it.

Holding to the tradition that the bride should always be a little late so as not to appear too eager I decided that ten minutes would suffice. However, the problem being that I thought the Priest had the wedding booked for 3pm

and not 2pm, yes, you got it....i was one hour and ten minutes late which left my flu-layden guests sitting in a gigantic cold church all sneezing and coughing with and with enought tissues to paper the alter. These were not

to cry either Richard or myself off into wedded bliss, they were to stop the dripping of all their red noses during the ceremony.

So, I arrive an hour and ten minutes late, the priest is almost cancelling, everyone is freezing, it is snowing outside. Perfect. I walk up the aisle towards Richard and see his green hungover face, ripped apart by a razor and managed to hold in a laugh. My father handed me over with such sincerity and love that i felt it just had to go right from now on. Orla had managed to hobble down the aisle and we would just have to put Niamh's flowers in front of her gigantic coldsore for the pictures. So, the

ceremony began with a rather irate priest glaring down at me.

After the ceremony finished we all went outside into the snow to have our pictures and video taken. This was a very quick part as the temperature was turning us all blue. The wedding car looked glorious and we only had about 20k to travel through country roads to the new hotel. The car and our guests flowed out of Dunlaoghaire like a beautiful cavalcade as wellwishers blared their horns and waved at the newly married couple. We made it about 5k when the car came to an abrupt halt. It stopped outside a cemetary and all the guests piled around it to see what was wrong. Richard, my brand new husband, who is very mechanically minded, took a clip from my veil and

fixed the problem so we were off on our merry way again, it took about 30 minutes and we were a little late for the reception.

Finally, we arrived to the new hotel in Enniskerry which was surrounded by a carpet of white snow. We walked in the front door and looked forward to the warmth offered by the lovely building. This was not to be. The heating was not functioning properly so inside the building was like an icebox. They had arranged to have enormous fan heaters put on in the main ballroom for the function and they were to be switched on when the guests were seated. Ok, more pictures of Richard, Mum, Dad, Orla, Niamh and the beautiful bride looking like frozen turkeys. Never mind.

On entering the ballroom, all guests seated in their pre-arranged positions the fans were turned on. These heaters were about four feet high and were up high at the corners of the room. Clunk...whirr...and guess what? Remember I mentioned the really well thought out table for the holy molies? There they were nattering away about this and that when a used condom blew out of the fan and landed right in the centre of their table. That would give them fuel for gossip for the next six months. Apparently the previous

evening there had been a police banquet and they had left us a little pressie.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch. Thank God. I am happy to say that was twenty one years ago now and both myself and Richard can look back at that day, still in disbelief. When I relate this story to others who are moaning that the wedding cake "was not the way they imagined it", I think they appreciate that, for some, the day is perfect and for others, like Richard and I, the day can be a real one to remember.

So, if my past experiences of major days within one's life are anything to go by I have shown how you must always stay optimistic in the face of disaster. The future holds anything you wish all you have to do is look at the past which cannot be altered, live in the now and enjoy every breath you take and look forward to the future because you can create happiness within every moment.