flotsam

Post wedding

I feel bad creeping out of the wedding early. The groom is the son of one of my dearest friends. Her youngest when I met her, the middle child now; all of the younger kids are in the wedding. As I arrive I meet up with the other Family – these people have all been my family for years and years – happy to find myself at their table. My heart actually hurts, it’s so full and so happy to be here with these people I love and have missed.

But hours later and hours to go, I do creep out nevertheless. It’s pushing 9pm, and I need to be in Metropark station – some 45 minutes from the hotel – around 6:15am. That means I’ll have to be up before 5am.

And I still have to get to the hotel. And shower and mostly-pack and prep for the morning.

Just thinking about it makes me want to climb into bed.

But now, the next morning on the train into NYC, I am replaying the wedding and reception, the faces and voices of people I love. The vows of these dear ones, beginning this journey of choosing each other over and over, a loving and forgiving and supporting that is designed to last all their lives.

Happy for them.

Praying blessings for them.

Trusting Him for them.

And missing everyone all over again.

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