Time is a funny thing.
Eight and a half months ago, the wedding was still far enough away to think slowly and not feel panicked, to understand that it was still forever away. However, eight and a half months ago, my brother died, and that feels like yesterday, so now I don't understand what eight and a half months feels like anymore.
Time is a funny thing.
My sister is getting married in 19 days. That's three weekends from now. That's far less than a mattress flip and a toothbrush change. It's half the life span of a Brita water filter, and a haircut. It's less than a birth control card away.
Nineteen days is a funny thing, because eight and a half months ago, it was 15 lifetimes of misery.
I don't know. It's just a lot to think about, you know? My sister, and my brother, and the wedding, and the emotional ups and downs that will happen in the next two and two thirds weeks. In the next 19 days, we'll welcome 14 people off of 3 Italian planes, and we'll bite our tongues against the 1400 inconveniences that happen when people who don't speak English won't hurry up and get out of the bathroom. We will laugh and we will cry eight million times.
And then, in about 40 days, when it's all over, when everybody has gone home, or honeymoon, when my world is both free of Italians and weddings and Frankie, well, what then? Hmm?
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