When I left yesterday for the wedding of my cousin Dan and his fiancee Samantha, it was pouring, though not as heavily as the last wedding I went to, which took place during a hurricane.
By the time the ceremony began, the sun was trying to peek out. I'm a big believer in good omens. There's something about Friday night weddings that always appealed to me. I wasn't intimately involved in the plans but everything else seemed to go without a hitch. And this time I wasn't put on the spot to give another impromptu toast.
I got to talking to the father of the bride before dinner and the conversation inevitably gravitated toward the usual topics -- what a great moment this is, how weddings are symbolic for letting go of one's daughter, and the groom. Dan is the first of "the grandchildren" to get married. If you had asked me years ago I never would've pegged him as the first.
"Samantha's good for him," I told her dad. "He needs someone like her."
Congratulations to Dan and Samantha. Here's to many years of happiness.
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