There were three little boys at my brother’s wedding this weekend. Two of them were mine.
That night, filled with so many firsts, was the greatest night in their little lives. The night they were no longer just children in a sea of adults. The night they were grownups too. They donned tuxedos and bow ties just like all the big boys did and checked the football scores while they waited.
They solemnly walked down the aisle of the church, clutching the rings in their sweaty anxious hands. Halfway down they forgot to be nervous, briefly breaking character to wave and smile at familiar faces in the crowd. They sat in the pew – the very first pew – and poured over the wedding program, tracing over their names again and again with fidgety fingers.