Family Life and Engagement Joy

Earlier tonight I was here, at the dance studio. There was rain outside, wet in my perpetually untamed hair, and the lights on the dance floor were dim. There was a mood—a containment, a stillness, no conversation, a quiet conversation, an insistence, a deferral, and then, through the door, came Susan.

I hadn't seen her for months. I'd thought of her often. She's a dark-haired beauty with a megawatt presence. We had sat once, months ago, and talked about weddings. The right way to do them. The wrong way to wear hats. The perils of open bars. We'd talked about love, and about getting love right.

And Susan has. For on her hand this evening was something she had not, until this past Friday, worn before—yes, of course, engagement diamonds. Susan's getting married, and because I was at the studio with my camera, out of place on a quiet night, I got to share in her joy.

This is the thing about the places to which we choose to belong—we enter into family, and family enters into us.

And you—out here—who embraced me these past few days; you know how I feel about you. I have been lucky in my book life, lucky because the right people have found me. You rank high among them.