That makes it sound appropriately SF/F-ish, doesn’t it? Plus romance? Yes. I think I like it.
This, as it happens, is a letter to a friend’s daughter. About a wedding I couldn’t go to, but thought about a whole lot.
Dear Friend’s Daughter:
Do you remember when we met? You were seven. We were at an entirely grown up writers meeting thing so when I saw your little self with whatever project you’d brought along that day, I was silently all wincey inside.
You know. “Ugh, this is not going to be good.”
Ha ha ha! Was I wrong! Let it not be said that children cannot instruct certain adults with their good behavior.
There was more to come, of course. Like the first time you answered the phone when I called. The first time you answered the door when I stopped by, because who knew we would turn out to be “cut through the backyards” neighbors?
The moment I realized that when doing these things, you had more poise than I ever have.
Years passed–they have a habit of doing that–and through the process of movie nights, drop-bys, and the best dinners ever, I also had the chance to watch your various explorations of Things to Do with Life. In these I always saw an admirable combination of passion, thoughtfulness, and thoroughness.
Which, frankly, I never quite understood. I’m not so old that I don’t still remember me at that age, you know.
So for a while, I had the privilege of being on the sidelines of your life. And then I moved a little, and was less so, and then I moved a lot, and…well.
Not so long ago, then, I heard about the Pending Nuptials. And I got absurdly pleased and excited. And I thought, well, huh! What’s that all about? (Because, you know, writers just never let these things go.)
I did figure it out, though. It’s the potential of it all. It’s because I don’t have to know New Hubby to know how very much you’re doing the right thing for you, and that as you’re faced with the big honkin’ new things that come with marriage, you–and he–will face them with that same admirable combination of thought, passion, and completeness that I saw from that first day: at meeting, with project, teaching the grown-ups a thing or two.
In other words… SQUEEEEE! YOU GOT MARRIED! WAHOOO!
(Have a good time.)
Thank you so much for this, Doranna! I have only a vague recollection of that first meeting (although many general type memories of similar events, with similar projects), but I do very much remember movie nights, wonderful dinners, and cutting through back yards. I also remember the first (only?) time I ever got on a horse, dogs wearing silly hats to correct less than perky ears, and always appreciating my Mom’s grown up friend who never treated me like a kid from central casting. Thank you so much for thinking of me in this strange and wonderful new project in my life. I would love for you to meet my new hubby someday. I suspect you will find him thoughtful and passionate as well. Much love,
Dee, friends like you are a rare and wonderful thing. Thanks so much for that.
*helplessly waves hankie*