By Denise Swanson
When the first invitation arrived, I was excited. A cousin I thought would never get married had found the love of his life and was taking the plunge. The event was a good hour from our house, but well worth the drive. Especially, since my other cousins and I had a pool going as to whether he would say, “I do” or run for the hills.
I was even kind of excited when the next invitation arrived. It was taking place in a beautiful theater and I was looking forward to seeing a wedding take place in this grand old building. But then I realized the event was taking place on a Friday night, which meant stuffing my husband into a suit the moment he arrived home from work and rushing to the location so we wouldn’t be walking down the aisle at the same time as the bridal party. It also happened to be about 110 degrees that day so I ended up looking like a melted scoop of strawberry ice cream. Yes, my outfit was pink.
Fast-forward through five more weddings—you heard me right FIVE—and my desire for a good piece of wedding cake has been used up, as has most of my appropriate summer wardrobe.
As it turned out, it was a beautiful ceremony and perhaps the best reception I’ve ever attended—certainly the best food. Still, after eight weddings, I’m happy for summer to end and autumn to begin. Surely there’s no one left to get married.
Oh, oh. What’s this large, stiff, white envelope in today’s mail? The stamps have two interlocking rings on them. That can’t be a good sign.