Dear Old Friend,

I appreciate the wedding invitation.  It will be weird, as I haven't seen you in four and a half years, and  a) have never met your fiancée; also b) barely recognize myself from then. On the other hand, as we've known each other twenty-nine years, I suppose I should come. Can I not?  Can I go somewhere all by myself instead?

No?  Damn.

Also, my dear, you said the wedding would be in the fall.  'That will be wonderful', I thought!  'We'll be living a half hour away!'

JUNE.  JUNE IS SUMMER.  JUNE IS NOT THE FALL.  WTF.  JUNE.

In fact, it is the weekend BEFORE we were planning to MOVE ALL OUR STUFF A THOUSAND MILES.  If I sound a little shouty, it's because I've just rearranged the lives and schedules of six people so I can go to your wedding-  when I want to be alone, in a cabin in the woods, for a week.  Alas, Dr. S will not be coming, on account of the above; my father likewise, though he's a grinch.  So at least someone is happy.  But if I go outside to cry, it's because I wanted to be in a cabin, alone.

Normally weddings are cheerful, but my dear, this time?  I am depressed.   My marriage is suffering under the influence of a boatload of upheaval, perpetual illness, stress, and oh yes, MOVING A THOUSAND MILES.*  I see you full of hopeful excitement, and also wealthy and successful, and I'm perversely sad.

As your income is easily five times ours, I have no idea what to give as a wedding gift.  Anything I could make, you can buy a nicer one - and probably already have.  I'll make a donation to some charity or other, because I will be damned if I know what else to do.

And on that cheering note, I'll see you in June, dear, from the very back of the room, where I'll be chasing my tired, cranky, freaked-out-from-moving children up and down the aisles. Of course, if I'm lucky, later I can have a stiff drink while my mother chases them.

-J

*Nothing is wrong, we're just tired and sick all the time, and therefore have no energy or time for each other because keeping everyone alive eats it all up.  And, did I mention, MOVING A THOUSAND MILES???  I hope this will be a temporary situation... though it's been going on for a couple years at this point.  Remediation plan: toss children at my parents, run away, drink lots of bourbon.