There’s a funny thing about marriages. Unless you absolutely despised the person you married, you still remember the wedding — and the day — with a certain nostalgia, if not fondness. So while yesterday thoughts of my first wedding, at the Parlier Justice Court, fluttered across my mind all day, today I have been thinking similar thoughts of my second wedding, at the beautiful St. Paul’s Episcopal Church.
I remember the hopes of a fresh start we had with this “real” wedding; it was the second time for each of us, and we knew it would be our last. And it was. Good things happened. Georgia happened. But lousy things happened, too. We didn’t envision spending years 29 through 33 living across town from each other, but things are better this way.
This way we can be friends.