love is patient, love is kind, love...

Numero dos is done. Two weddings down, three to go.

The other day I received yet another wedding invitation. As I perused the oh so familiar oversized envelope I wondered, “Who is getting married now?” I thought I was aware of all the weddings for this season. Apparently now, but I was relieved to find out it is a second cousin. I’m not close to her, so the pain of another wedding was lessened at bit. It would actually be fine if I didn’t make it to this one. But, it is in Florida in September. Either that would be a great time to get a last minute tan or to see the wrath of a fabulous hurricane since it is the middle of that season. I don’t know if I’ll go. It would really be a weekend of hanging out with the rents which, let’s face it, I do enough of in my own apartment when they decide to come visit, often. I am; however, quite happy for this cousin as it is her second time of engagement though the first for actual invitations. She’s in her late thirties and that alone gives me a bit of hope and room to breathe.

Tonight was a great wedding. The drinks flowed and good food was served and we ate dinner overlooking a lake at sunset. There were people I’ve never seen before and familiar faces from all the showers and pre-parties. There were good friends and new friends and family. And there was dancing and pictures and smiling and happiness and love, lots of love all around.

Starting at 3pm in a Catholic Church, I nestled in to back row pew and beckoned friends to follow suit. Our row, full of teachers, was the official peanut gallery. We could hear and eye everything from out backseats, the late comers, the whispers, the crying children, the brat child telling her mother to “shush,” we saw it all and yet WE kept quiet.

Not being Catholic, we were worried that this would be what my Dad likes to call and “aerobics class” service. You know, up down, up down, kneel, up down, kneel, etc. But, my good friend L. and C. decided on a Catholic light service since they too are Catholic light, if anything. The wedding was short and pretty with well-chosen songs and readings. The parish was beautiful. I always love big, cathedral parishes; they almost make me want to be Catholic.

I go to so many weddings that I could probably recite the scriptures and the vows by heart, but this wedding did not bore me and when L. walked down the isle with tears in her eyes I kinda welled up myself. I’m not a crier at weddings. In fact, I thought for a long time that I had a stone heart because of my lack of crying at weddings. Everyone else gets caught of in the emotions and you see women dabbing their eyes and bridesmaids pulling Kleenex wrapped about their bouquets. I’ve never needed a Kleenex at a wedding and have always though “Yeah, it’s a wedding, what’s the fuss, why are you crying?” But, today, for L., I understood a little more. She’s almost 31 and the tears in her eyes were the symbols of her waiting so long for that man who loves and respects her and that she in turn loves and respects. He’s not a perfect man, but he is one with whom she can share a life and so she cried for all that she is getting as she walked toward him. And when I saw her crying, walking with her father, I thought of myself and if I ever find that man I’m sure then that my stone heart will certainly melt and tears will run down my face as I walk toward him too.

Cheers to L. and C., may you live happily ever after!

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