Torn

Last night we had elderly neighbors bearing wedding gifts at the front door and young future in-laws bearing a fresh catch of crawdads from the creek at the back, and I felt a bit torn. I expect that this feeling will be quite common over the next few days as we attempt to entertain the wide variety of people assembling for our daughter's wedding.

All week my driveway has looked like a used-car lot and the garage apartment has been crawling with bridesmaids, lovely young women bubbling with energy, which is a good thing because a great deal of energy is needed and I'm running out. The groom's dad and brothers arrived last night and delivered my son, who had to get up at 4 a.m. yesterday to get to the airport in time for his flight home. The groom arrived a little later after taking an extra trip back home to pick up the wedding rings (oops). Today my parents and brothers and in-laws will be rolling into town--just in time for the rehearsal tonight.

And here's the really fun thing: tonight the mayor is blocking off a section of the main street in town for an outdoor concert, so when the wedding party travels from the rehearsal to the rehearsal dinner, they will find the street blocked off and no parking places available within miles. It will be interesting to sit down to a terrific dinner at the best restaurant in town while a block away the mayor's bluegrass band sings their usual songs about the joys of eating roadkill. Eat more possum. It's America's other other white meat.

Rehearsal today, wedding tomorrow, big family cookout Sunday, and then my household will return to its usual state of sedate dullness, when the choices become much simpler: weed the tomatoes or pick blueberries or mow the meadow? I'm enjoying all this hubbub but I know it won't last, and when it's over, the garden will still be silently waiting.