The first dance at an Armenian wedding belongs to the mother of the groom. She leads in the bridal party; her arms form a rising moon. She dances, welcoming the bride, into the fold, like a new child, with patterns older than her church, older than her pagan smile.
With the mother of the bride now, she moves. They dance, joyous, sad, marking this beginning, blessing all the paths they passed.
Hands trace stories of old kingdoms, for which all the names are lost, two queens, two friends, two long journeys, two roads joined at last.