You know what’s weird? Watching your childhood friends getting married, that’s what’s weird.
It’s one thing when it’s a friend of your mothers or a cousin you only see once a year. It’s another thing entirely when it’s a girl you’ve known since grade school.
Imagine—her birthday was two days before yours, so you’d celebrate together. You went to her birthday party every year. She went to yours. She left her DVD collection of Gilligan’s Island at your house on accident and you watched episode after episode while you were recovering from a bug you picked up at the party. The two of you collaborated on a comic strip which carried on for volumes. She had this thing for finches, and she gave several to a friend of yours. She was weird. You were weird. You were mutually weird, and it made 6th grade bearable.
You were in the same section in orchestra together in high school. You watched her progression of boyfriends. You watched her freak out over a stuffed penguin he bought her. You saw her blossom into a slender, stylish young lady.
Then all of a sudden, there she is at the end of an aisle, gorgeous and dressed in white, hitched to some dude you barely know.
It came as a bit of a shock.
Don’t jump to conclusions on me, now. They’re an adorable couple. From what I understand, they’re made for each other. It was a beautiful wedding, intimate and centered on them and their families instead of on unnecessary fanfare. The groom cried. The bride cried. I may have even sniffled. Their groom’s cake was peanut butter and chocolate. It was great.
But the adultness of it all…the sudden and irrevocable change in her from Miss to Mrs. … the inability to reconcile my mental image of her as a little girl with the image of her as a bride, kissing this boy…the knowledge that all I’ll have to do is blink and they’ll have mini versions of them running around…blink again and the bambinos will be my age, and repeating the cycle with spouses of their own. Their children and my children may even be friends.
One summer wedding down. Two more to go. What other reflections are in store?