It’s summer and the invites are stacking up on the kitchen counter. One in Barbados, one where the guests only wear black and white and one where we’re not sure they’re going to make it to the wedding date. They’re pink and gold and in beautiful letterpress. And they have no idea what’s coming next.

I have a lot of up close and personal experience with weddings and what I’d like to do with these new brides and grooms is give them some honest insight. I don’t know that I’ve seen this on any of the gift registries but surely someone will appreciate it.

It would be more of a celebration at the one-year anniversary than to throw a lavish wedding event. Celebrate the fact that you’ve made it beyond your new husband helping the neighbor lady writing her match.com profile and choosing her photos. Add the fact that she calls for him at night to change the lightbulbs and that alone equals an iced vodka sculpture.

When the couple is young and unknowing, I root for them and suppress my jealousy at their innocence. When the couple is older, I wildly applaud them. It takes extra courage when the dress shop keeps mistaking you for the mother of the bride instead of the bride.

Although a summer of wedding cake and mainlining prosecco is not a bad way to spend it. I actually enjoy these celebrations and since I have all of this marital experience, I take it seriously to witness others take their vows. I feel a part of the huge support network that encircles them. It’s an honor to be included on the wedding list. I show up beside the fact that I have nothing to wear (as in nothing fits). I show up beyond the fact that I find it in poor taste to have a $3,500 coffee table on the gift registry. I show up for the wedding and I’ll show up again if anyone should ever need me to dust them off and prop them upright after a trying time in their marital marathon.

So here’s to sparkles, to tulle and wedding cakes a mile high. To big dreams, sweet dreams and health and happiness. And most of all, here’s to remembering our own.

 

 

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