One of my oldest and dearest friends, Leah, got married this past weekend to a truly fantastic guy, William.
They met while they were in college, working at Barnes & Noble together, and he had a hopeless crush on her. I was visiting Leah in 2005 when I first met him. My first reaction? "Who is this guy with spiky hair and Simpsons quotes? Doesn't he know she'll eat him alive?" Maybe he did. But he refused to believe it. And lo and behold, 7 years later, they're married.
So I spent most of last week near Reading, PA at Leah's parent's house getting ready for the big, DIY country chic day.
I cried about 800 times for over a thousand reasons, not the least which was I'm an old sad lady and that's what old sad ladies do at weddings. I think mostly, though, it's that my three closest friends from childhood are all married now to great people who I also consider as my close, personal friends. And they're all either starting or preparing to start families. It's beautiful and awesome and just a little bittersweet, because we're not kids anymore, no matter how much I feel like a kid whenever I'm around them. Ah, the sounds of new pages being turned (and other such sacchrine-sweet sappy nostalgia quotes.)