I haven’t posted here for a while, or written much of anything. There’s just been too much living going on. First it was our trip to France, and now it’s our daughter’s wedding.
Sophie and Henry are marrying on Sunday. Sophie’s brother flew from to Colorado so he could drive his grandparents east for the occasion. They’ve been here about a week. Their visit is coinciding with a stupefying heat wave, which forecasters promise will break just in time for the nuptials. We’re keeping our fingers crossed.
In the meantime, our days have been a mix of wedding-related errands and houseguest-related activities. Polish silver to be used in special blessing ceremony. See where David works. Buy fruit for the salad we’re bringing to the Saturday night pot-luck. Go to the beach. Discuss seating arrangements. Take father-in-law to Walgreens to refill a prescription. Think about wedding toast wording. Visit the gardens at Blithewold. And through it all, concentrate on keeping cool, literally as well as figuratively.
In my regular life, when I’m not sharing my home with David’s parents or getting ready for a family wedding, I don’t spend much time thinking about what it means to be my age (54). But all this switching back and forth between being a daughter-in-law and preparing to become a mother-in-law has been simultaneously disorienting and starkly orienting. I am the fulcrum between octogenarians and newlyweds.
It’s a great place to be. Between making lists and moving fans from one room to the next, it’s good to take a moment to appreciate just how lucky I am to be spending this quality time with loved ones from the generation before mine, and helping my daughter embark on a life with a partner she and we love.