We went to a wedding yesterday.
We didn't have far to go, the church was down the road and the reception was next door, in our neighbor's backyard.
Everything about it was fun, the Mass was lovely, the party was fun, the weather (after what seems like endless rain) was gorgeous. But what really made this party special is that it was so long in coming.
When we first moved into our house we met our neighbor who was living with his elderly mother. We also met his girlfriend (who didn't live there). She told me that they'd been dating for about ten years.
We moved in almost fifteen years ago.
Yes, this was a marriage twenty-five years in the making.
All of their friends and relatives were so happy to
finally be able to say they were at Lou and Kathy's wedding. (Because, quite reasonably, some of us never quite expected that day to come.)
We hung out with our other neighbors, and danced and drank (and yes, despite what one of my neighbors insisted, you can have too much Sangria). The kids ran back and forth between the food and our backyard where they ran around and played on the swing set and generally had more fun then if they'd had to keep out of the way around the grown ups.
It was a night to remember. As it should be. After all, it was twenty-five years in the making.
As an aside: Anyone else ever think it odd that an iconic song for a generation, a song that everyone knows all the words to is "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" by Meatloaf?
