(Zamboni to return soon- but till then-)
It doesn’t get much better than this:
1. My brother gets married. I’m the best man. (Well, I wasn’t really but The World’s Most Beautiful Bridesmaid says to me over too much wine at rehearsal dinner, “so just ask him!” so I did, hence the upgrade.) But I really was all the time. This I realize now.
2. I offer to drive said Bridesmaid (plus 2 others just as lovely) to my place of lodging so she does not have to travel many miles to hers and mine being “only five minutes” down the road. I get lost and am for 90 minutes circling through blackness of Sonoma coyote country. I call my brother who has GPS app and talks me through it all despite him being waked from pre-nuptial bed. But with this bridesmaid beside me and Stray Cat Strut bombing down two lane nowhere I am both hating myself and loving myself for being this lost. Finally finding the place but just narrowly averting death by wakened dog at 2am and not averting being woken up by never shutting up rooster at 5am- even all this can’t kill high.
3. Then the wedding. And I know by his and hers smile that “encouraging” brother to get the hell off the pot and finally ask this girl to marry him was rightest thing I ever do.
4. And the toast. Wasn’t so much that it was great toast. (Though hearing rooster through throbbing head at 5am does give me epiphany: my brother is my GPS- and now his wife is his.) It was just to be there, doing that. I can’t explain right. Let me try: To be the best man, to have the responsibility to give the toast, to see these two, everyone, these moments that happen once in your life, the love I feel even now thinking of this. It makes so much bearble, even necessary. To be needed, to be loved, to be important to people- if that’s all there is in this life; I’m okay.
5. Oh, and the manicure was fantastic. The oily arm and finger massage so nice. Her name was Joanne, told me all about her kids and I told her things I’d never tell you. Definitely the only kind of hand job you want with your brother in the room. This isn’t Rome after all. -jw