I have just returned from a wedding that was one of the most fun weddings I have ever attended. And it was all because my baby sister got married to someone at LEAST as extroverted as herself (oy vey) and *dang* those people can dance.
I have been up since 2:30 this morning returning from Atlanta, having slept an entire three hours due to two things:
1. The wedding was fun and hard work and more fun and, well, you don't get to bed at 8:30 for those kinds of weddings
--and--
2. Poor planning on the part of me and Dan regarding our flight out of Atlanta.
One word: Brutal.
I'm an immensely introspective person. Going out for coffee with one person has me pondering that friend for an entire week. Spending a mere 3 days with dozens of my favorite people practically levels me emotionally. I enter the joys and sorrows and excitements and anxieties of all of their stories until my children only have a few threads left of their mother.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Life collides, that's all there is to it.
As I am gushing over the exquisite beauty of my baby sister's bridely-ness (a new word), I hear a chorus around me:
- Where's the hair gel?
- Where are the scissors? No, the GOOD ones?
- What can I eat?
- Doesn't Becky look amazing?
- Are the groomsmen here?
- Where's the double sided tape?
- The flowers are GORGEOUS.
My heart is pulled is 27 directions, mostly good, and I want to rest somewhere and ponder the amazement of it all... of how my baby sister listened to her instinct and didn't allow men to stay in her life who tried to diminish her or make her less... can I be honest?... less emotional and loud and amazing.
Becky married a lovely man named Jon. His mother told me that after a few weeks of dating Becky he knew she was the one. What's more, he tells his mother, "I don't want to ruin this." Which is the best thing you can tell an older sister... that her baby sister so smit a man that he took his next steps with great care so that he could form an amazing relationship with her. Does my heart good.
And then... when you see these two on the dance floor, they move so effortlessly and spontaneously that you don't know who is having more fun.
In the midst of these moments, I look at my own husband. We both look a bit older than when we first married. I don't need to reveal the evidences of this, but I will say this: When you live life, it shows.
So as I am watching this squeaky new marriage being formed, I am looking for my own anchor, for the man who has worn many shoes for me: dance shoes, funeral shoes, work boots... and I see that today he is trying to rein in our 5 year old as she performs her flower girl duties. I look at him. He couldn't find the hair spray, so his hair is soft and fluffy in the wind instead of his normal edgy look. I know that we aren't squeaky new anymore, but it's okay.
I see Becky riding away in the limo with her husband, Jon. Wow... husband... I can't believe she has that word in her vernacular now. Her window is rolled down, she pulls the limo up to me and says, "Kiss me." She has never been more happy. Her entire radiance could illuminate a city.
I shed my bridesmaid dress, catch a few winks and wear my airport clothes. Sneakers are a must. And so are eyeglasses. I think I can hear my eyelids blink. I'm tired and weary and happy and I move very, very slowly.
Life happened, you see.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
