Dancing at the wedding turned out to be no big deal. Warren and I did the sideways step and hold to everything. My only real challenge was trying to follow my 6’4” older son, Alex, whose aunt taught him the box step when he was about nine. I could not figure that out, and his steps were, well, giant.
My friend Barbara, who drove to Sacramento for the wedding with her husband, Kevin—both of them our neighbors and team parenting associates for 16 years in Palo Alto—sent me this message a couple of weeks ago: “Not to worry about your dance. The two of you standing and holding one another is simple and beautiful.” It’s impossible to say how much that helped. We practiced, too, at Chelsea’s house the day before the wedding, alongside her parents, Paul and Dianne.
Photos are still on the way, but I expect them to show what I already feel, that my children are beautiful, handsome, kind, smart and funny. They are royalty. They shimmer. I fell in love with Chelsea, my new daughter-in-law, for good and always, and with Alex, groom Victor, and Mary all over again.
I didn’t blog much in the run-up to the wedding, and I’ll have to creep up on writing about it now. I am truly gobsmacked.*
*Verb courtesy of Pete Fromm