Sitting in Starbucks. A man in his, oh, late 20s just walked in. Started talking to some of the employees he knows. Tomorrow, he’s getting married.
He’s beaming.
I’ve been married for nine years. Not sure how that’s happened. Whoosh. Nine years. Weddinh, honeymoon, car, apartment, pregnant, house, birth, another car, pregnant, birth, princess dresses, T-ball.
And here I am. Still in Starbucks.
I remember, before our wedding, getting some great advice: Slow it down. Meaning, enjoy every moment. Pay attention. All those friends and family members under one roof for a four-hour span almost never happens. Actually, it happens twice, but you’re only there for one of them. My wedding whipped by. I’d fought for only one thing—an ice cream bar—and didn’t have time to taste the ice cream.
But life has been blissful.
