The people stretch out before me for miles. A lot of people wanted to see a coronation. They don’t come around often, and I’m a wild card. Everyone wants to be there in case I fail epically. It’s a sad but true thought.
“Are you ready, reina?”
I throw a smile over my shoulder and nod. The court is there for protection if necessary and medical support. In essence, I’m bonding myself to a position. We’re uncertain how that will react to the bone already in place.
My dress is blue, the color of water. The strapless dress is an ombre-style that mimics the ocean going from a deep blue to teal. A white pattern mimics sea foam and waves. My hair is adorned with a crown of blue orchids.
Mémé is waiting at the end of the aisle in front of an altar. She gives the nod, and I slowly make my way toward her. I send a gentle mist creeping along the forest floor. Flowers bloom and the sound of the ocean is heard as I pay homage to water and spring. The coronation walk is about proving your worth. I add a hint of salt-water scent and the feel of sea spray. It comes easily. The conversion process is alive and altering me with each step.
I flow from water to air and summer. A warm wind rushes through the area, blowing away the scent of the sea and the mist. Warmth encompasses the crowd. The smell of wildflowers rolls over us. Sunflowers spring up five to six feet tall and my blue dress turns a deep yellow. Lace appliqué flowers cover my arms and the sheer front of the dress, leaving my back bare. The mermaid-style skirt flows out around me. I focus on Mémé and her encouraging smile. I can feel her pride and excitement through the temporary connection linking us for the transfer.
I use it as my fuel and push myself harder. Autumn erupts in a shower of red, gold, and orange leaves that form on the trees and rains down on the crowd. Their whispers and murmurs make me smile. Vines push up from the earth and pumpkins grow, big, fat, and round. The scent of pumpkin fills the air, and I pay homage to earth with an emerald green dress with a trumpet skirt, bell sleeves of sheer material, and a corset top that accentuates my curves. Leaves and vines wind their way across the boat neck and sides by my hips. A crown of autumn leaves circles my hair.
A crack of thunder shakes the space. Tiny snowflakes begin to rain down, growing in intensity and size until the entire pathway and forest have been turned into a winter wonderland. My dress erupts in a violent display of flames. The red burn away the green. The one-shoulder gown has a trumpet cut at the bottom and hugs my curves. It stands out against the snowy backdrop. I reach inside for an offering worthy of my ancestors who I sense are here and the change to head my family. Glowing green tendrils of power flow from me, coating the ground and the surrounding area. I reach the end of the aisle and kneel before Mémé.
“We ask the ancestors to guide, keep, and bless this new matriarch as she takes the position of many proud women in her lineage who have come before her.” A cold gust of air makes me shiver. I open my eyes and gasp. I’m surrounded by the filmy images of women of all shades, sizes, and time-periods.
“The spirits show their approval,” Mémé whispers, dazed. “Rise, granddaughter, and receive what is rightfully yours.”
I stand, and we join hands. She stares into my eyes, and I feel the last of the power begin to transfer. She squeezes my hand, and I set my
feet, supporting her. Soft white light washes over us, and it’s done.
“You have all witnessed it. So mote it be,” Mémé whispers.
“So mote it be,” the crowd choruses. Mémé and I move over to our family gathered around the altar. I take the head of the space.
“To our ancestors who came before us,” I lift the bottle of expensive wine and pour it onto the earth, “we thank you.” I feel a new kinship with the women who showed up for me today. Seeing them turned them into more than a vague concept.
“And now we go make nice with everyone talking shit about us right now.”
Vit laughs so hard he has to bend over and clutch his belly.
“What?” Mom screeches.
“Oh, was I the only one thinking it?” I ask.
Mémé laughs. “Straight shooter. I like it.”
“If you can’t be real in front of your family, who can you be real with?” I ask.
“You’re not too old to have your mouth washed out with soap,” my mother mumbles.
“Sorry, Mom. Had to blow off some of this excess energy.”
“They’ll be waiting to rub elbows with you,” Mémé says.
I nod. We’ve set up tents similar to the ones for Equinox with heating, a catered brunch, and champagne. Taking it outside made it more organic and less opulent, which I appreciated it. I’ll get enough of that in a few weeks.
I offer Mémé my arm. Back straight, she’s the picture of decorum in her white suit with matching jacket, but I can see her waning. It took a lot out of her exchanging power.
“You want to make a run for it? I’ll let them blame it on me,” I say quietly.
She laughs. “Non, I want to eat my fill of this fancy breakfast we’re paying out the nose for.”
I laugh. “Fair enough. Let’s go do our best to eat our weight in crepes and whatever other tasty things they whip up.” Relief courses through me. Months have led up to this display. A few more hours of mingling, making nice, and performing more magic, and this coronation will be officially done. Next comes the hardest part … living with it.
***