On Saturday morning, Jeff and I drove across the river to the capitol of Illinois to attend the wedding of one of my very favorite people. While there, I was able to see several of my other favorites—some who know me, and some who don’t. (I’ve had internet access for eighteen years, and it still widens my eyes.)
Oh, this wedding. It could not have been more perfect. The bride and groom were encircled by friends and family and that big circle of people was lit by dappled sun and everyone was smiling and: So Much Joy.
After the ceremony, I found myself sitting at a table with six people who have accomplished great things with their writing and because I love writers and I love weddings and I love hearing acorns being crunched and I love eating toast corners with egg slices and some sort of spread (I have no idea what those things were, but I can’t get them out of my head), I just kept thinking things like, “I want to be Better. At writing (and at social situations) and at life.” I’m just sort of grateful that we left before the music kicked up, because I was starting to feel carbonated, which means it was only a matter of minutes before my whirling dervish tendencies kicked in. (No one would want to see that.)