A week and a half ago I got an email from Heather. Yes, she lives here. Yes, we communicate by email. The email in question said, in essence, "we decided to get married next weekend, here at the house. You around?"
Heather is our niece on Chris' side of the family. Our families are different, Chris' and mine. Our wedding was the least formal in the history of my side of the family - and it still involved months of planning. The fact that I was doing it in less than a year was cause for panic. If I had done it in a week, half my family would have been standing there breathing into paper bags.
Rumor has it that the differences between us was the source of some dinner party chit chat recently. Our friends were saying how difficult it was to picture the two of us together at first. I rock the Marian the Librarian look and Chris is known for his ability to wear the same sweatshirt for a week - inside out every other day.
But I'm really not half as uptight as I look and I thought being invited to a wedding with a week's notice was perfectly dreamy. As was the wedding. Chris' sister bought the entire Boston Flower Market and festooned the house with white flowers. She also festooned Lucy with flowers - making her a daisy halo and giving her a basket of white johnny jump-ups to carry. In fact, although we have many, many pictures of the wedding, there are precious few of the bride and groom. We were fairly besotted with Lucy as flower girl. Our pictures will make a fine slide show: There's Lucy standing with the bride, there's Lucy eating cake, there's another one of Lucy eating cake, oh that one's the bride and groom with the groom's parents - where'd that one come from?
It seems like just yesterday that Heather invited us downstairs for pie and asked us if Scott could move in. Because it was Scott, we were sold easily on the idea, but pretended to deliberate long enough to score more pie.
And then one day I was out tying tulle ribbons into the trees and Heather wandered out and asked if it was okay to drink coffee when one is pregnant.
And shortly after that a ring appeared, followed by a carseat, a changing table and a big box of diapers.
Soon, they will be driving up our driveway with a small person in that carseat. They are like a time-lapse photography version of a nuclear family.
So here's to deciding to be a family. Here's to the couples who balance each other, and to the couples who match each other. It's all good. It's all family.