Wedding Weekend: Starring Modern Mugwump as Bridesmaid Number 4

Almost exactly 5 years ago, I talked on the phone with this mild-mannered soft-spoken girl from a small town in Western Minnesota. She was captain of her cheerleading squad in a class of 56 students and her father was a buffalo farmer, amongst other things. She was the oldest of 5 girls in the family with a high school sweetheart that had gone to college a year before.

Pretty much the polar opposite of the less-modern but fairly mugwumpy young woman I was at 18– growing up in two large suburbs of Minneapolis, attending a school that had more students than her town had people, the youngest daughter of two IT professionals.

And together, this small-town girl and I were about to become. . .

FRESHMAN ROOMMATES.

Yep. That person very few people forget, because they either loved ’em or hated ’em. And while our conversation on the phone that day went very well, I did not foresee the entire year continuing in the same manner. As far as I was concerned, we were way too different. From conversations we have had, I think she felt the same way. So imagine my surprise when we not only got along as roommates, we became great roommates and great friends. And then we lived together again the following year (after a I disassembled a disastrous roommate situation that temporarily mutilated a pretty good friendship). And imagine my surprise when we stayed friends even after I ended up in my own place, and again when she called to tell me she was marrying that goofy high school sweetheart of hers that I had grown to adore. And last year, she honored me by asking me if I would be in her wedding.

I would have never guessed that. Ever.

So this weekend I drove to a part of the state I had never been and almost missed her whole town when I sneezed. Luckily, the soybean plant is a large enough (and smelly enough) structure that I turned off in the right place. Before making a series of wrong turns trying to get to the home of one of my other greatest friends’ parents.

Long story short (or maybe several good stories abridged and glommed together): I was ecstatic to watch Christine get married this weekend, and despite only knowing half of the wedding party before I arrived in Dawson, I quickly got to know quite a few lovely families and more of Kade and Christine’s friends and I had the most fabulous time. I decided not to bring a date, which was a decision I had previously regretted until I actually got to the wedding/reception and had an absolute blast dancing with every member of the wedding party, the groom, at least 75% of the surviving grandparents, and anyone else with two feet and a little wiggle.

It seems to be getting to be about that time in my life– a big surge of my friends getting married. I love it. There is nothing better than being invited to be a part of someone’s love story. I find it so incredibly easy to be happy for these young couples– there is something very powerful about deciding that you want to spend the rest of your life with someone and I am honored that Kade and Christine thought of me when they contemplated how they would celebrate this day. I would have not wanted to be anywhere else in the world.

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