Every year brings a few invitations for friends’ and relatives’ weddings. Not this year. This year, we received two.
One is for one of my favorite cousins. The fact that I only have four cousins makes this no less true or meaningful. She’s one of the people who, without complaint, makes the world keep going. She played the music for my wedding. I look at her and see her mother, who died all too recently. She’s sweet and funny and cheerful and always quietly herself.
The other is for our second-best man at our wedding (she looked good in the tux, but not at all masculine). She’s my husband’s ex-roommate, the ex-fiance of one of my good friends from college, and hooked into our lives in so many little ways that a friend refers to her as ubiquitous. She’s a force of nature.
I’m so happy to see both of these people happy, but I want to shake them. Off all the days this summer to pick from, they had to put their weddings on the same day–in different towns, so we can’t even manage one ceremony and one reception.
I’ve been staring at the date on the calendar all summer, knowing this was coming. Finally, this morning, I had to put the RSVP cards in the mail. We made the choice over breakfast. Bah. I’ll get over it and be happy for them again soon, but not just yet. I’m still grumpy over having to choose at all.
All I can say, guys, is get it right next time.