I'm flying to Tampa tomorrow for a wedding
I swoop down at noon, attend the wedding in the evening, and fly back Sunday morning. It's my longest tenured friend, a gal I've known 25 years. The first time we met, I imitated Three's Company's Jack's Tripper, who at the time I thought was the height of comedy. She's the last of our little high school group to get hitched. My wife is using the weekend to catch up with her old college gal pal back home.
I'm happy for my buddy. She's had it hard with family problems and major uprooting throughout her life. But she's settling into place with a guy who seems good for and to her.
It makes me confront my age. I'll be 35 next month. I don't feel it physically, but I'm fully aware of how much time has passed since we first met. And I look forward to being there for her wedding and maybe toast the happy couple. I was in the wedding of our other triumvirate member and was informed at the last second that I'd have to make the toast. But, knowing my friends as I do, I knew they'd neglect to tell me this, and I had a toast prepared. This is one of those reliable facets of our friendship, a comforting stability that's lasted almost all my life.