Yesterday, I went to a wedding. The son of my former Sunday School teachers got married. I knew the son, too, though he was nine years old(!!!!) when I moved to Houston. He was clearly excited as he was bouncing the entire ceremony. He's been excited for several weeks. I'd talk to him every Wednesday when we'd be at the comic shop at the same time, and he always knew how many days it was. He has always been looking forward to it.
After lighting the unity candle and coming back for the closing ceremony, the groom kicked the bride's train to the side so it would be out of the way when they turned around to leave. Everyone laughed when he did that. When I talked to his parents afterwards, his dad said that he can't believe his son did that. I asked if he would expect anything different from him, though.
This wedding was different from others I've been to in recent years. I didn't (nearly) cry at the ceremony or go home and cry because I felt I had totally wasted my life being near or in my forties and hardly ever having been on a date. I still feel I've wasted it, but I'm not condemning myself for it. This is a tremendous change for me. I was actually able to have a good time and not have a bittersweet outlook on the whole thing.
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