Yep. On Saturday my little sister is getting hitched. She will be joined in holy matrimony by her illustrious brother-in-law (you know him as "the master"), and will be preceded down the aisle by her nieces and myself. I think the two older boys have a job, too, because they have been fitted for tuxes. I'm a little sketchy on the details. What with daycare and vending machines, I haven't been able to play the part of your typical sister of the bride/matron of honor. I do know that I will be wearing a green sleeveless dress that will show off my mamaw upper arms, but will thankfully conceal my permanent post-partem pooch. This wedding will mark the end of my bridesmaid career. I've been a bridesmaid five times and a maid/matron of honor twice. I'm turning in the flowers and hanging up the satin.
Jen will tie the knot in the same week that the master and I mark our ten year anniversary. That seems strange to me. She and I are separated by only 16 months. After a seven year struggle with secondary infertility, my mother gave birth to me. Then--surprise!--six months after, she was pregnant again without even trying. We were each others best playmate, rival, enemy, and friend. For the first 10 years of our lives we were regularly mistaken as twins by outsiders and referred to collectively as "the little girls" by family and friends. When I learned to swim, she learned to swim. When I started piano lessons, she did, too. Mom and Dad bought us both cameros when we turned 16, mine was red, hers was blue. I left for home for college, and two falls later, she followed me to the same university. We've been--more or less--a package deal from the start. So it still strikes me as odd that I beat her down the aisle by a decade. I'm sure there have been moments when she wanted what I have: a home with a loving husband and adorable kiddos (though perhaps not so many). And at times, I've envied her peaceful evenings, single girl wardrobe, and--by virtue of her manlessness--keeping Daddy at her beck and call. They've been good years for both of us, but I'm glad we will soon share the title, "happily married."
Jen will tie the knot in the same week that the master and I mark our ten year anniversary. That seems strange to me. She and I are separated by only 16 months. After a seven year struggle with secondary infertility, my mother gave birth to me. Then--surprise!--six months after, she was pregnant again without even trying. We were each others best playmate, rival, enemy, and friend. For the first 10 years of our lives we were regularly mistaken as twins by outsiders and referred to collectively as "the little girls" by family and friends. When I learned to swim, she learned to swim. When I started piano lessons, she did, too. Mom and Dad bought us both cameros when we turned 16, mine was red, hers was blue. I left for home for college, and two falls later, she followed me to the same university. We've been--more or less--a package deal from the start. So it still strikes me as odd that I beat her down the aisle by a decade. I'm sure there have been moments when she wanted what I have: a home with a loving husband and adorable kiddos (though perhaps not so many). And at times, I've envied her peaceful evenings, single girl wardrobe, and--by virtue of her manlessness--keeping Daddy at her beck and call. They've been good years for both of us, but I'm glad we will soon share the title, "happily married."
Welcome to the club, Sis. 'Bout time you showed up!
2 comments:
Congratulations to both of you!
How nice that you share such a close relationship. Congratz to the whole family.
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