When one of my favorite writers (Amber from The Run A Muck) announced she would be hosting A Sister Party at her place, I thought it was a fantastic idea. Basically, she encouraged us bloggy girls to host a get together in our homes for our real-life girls, our do-life-with sisters, our friends. I loved it. In fact, I loved it so much that I thought all about it in my head and totally forgot to do it. My good intentions got tangled up with dirty socks and forgotten on the laundry room floor.
But then I went to this wedding last weekend. I know, I keep on talking about it and I am sorry about that. But it was simply a really big deal that this girl loves this man and that he loves her right back. I got there on Wednesday and rushed around making appointments and dry cleaning dresses and loved on my college roommate when she got teary. The wedding day passed in a flurry of stressfully happy eventfulness, a mosaic blend of holy and crazy, just as weddings ought to be. And then, it was time for the party.
Just like that, my college best friend was married and busy celebrating with guests and new husband. I retreated to the back of the reception tent to watch from a distance and breathe. Within minutes, I was surrounded by girls from college who I haven’t seen in years. And I couldn’t hug them tight enough. Nor could I stop the tidal wave of girly emotion from rising up and spilling out all over them.
As I stood there in my mess of giggles and tears, Amber’s Sister Party came to mind. I spent the rest of the evening lauging, dancing and catching up with my college sisters. The girls who knew me when. The girls in front of whom it is impossible to be embarassed because they loved me then and love me still. I reveled in the fact that, even though I forgot to plan my own sister party, I was still able to celebrate the bonds that run deep between girls. And I was thankful.