Thursday, October 7, 2010

I’ve written before about the summer I spent in Dijon, France five years ago, and what a “strange, hard, drunk, warm time that was in my life.” It’s the time of year again when the goldenrod burst from street signs and fence posts and holy shit was that all really five years ago?
Emily was there in 2005, so was Anjali, so I know it all really happened, that it wasn’t just a wine-soaked fever dream. It was a salve to my cluttered head several weeks ago to watch Em, earnest, mellow, blue-eyed, get married in Akron. Sometimes, on nights like that one, when old people are slow dancing, and toddlers in bow ties are napping under tables, and parents toast grown children with champagne, it seems like the love in the world, if measured, could outweigh the hurt. Sorry to get so grand about it, but feminist, (a)religious, cynical Feelings and all, hot damn do I love a wedding.

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