poured out before bed
Weddings inevitably remind those of us sporting the ball-and-chain of our own “big day,” no matter how recently or far past it occurred. True to form, my little sister’s wedding floated gently to the conscious surface fond memories of my own wedding day. It was a good day. An important day. Not the most important day – that is always the current day, or tomorrow, I find – but a lovely, memorable day. This goes out to Mr. Whine, the endlessly sweet and tragically handsome hero of my funny and flawed and fabulous existence. Love you more, sweetheart. And, thanks.