Care

Parents are in town, cleaning massively and making ridiculously good food. I am deeply grateful that I can drive them around, offer them a place to stay, and spend time with them.

Three years ago, we walked and bused everywhere in Tucson. I fanatically google-mapped bus routes days ahead of time, planned the trip around the bus stops, slathered sunscreen on every inch of my skin, and waited hours in the sun for the bus to come.

At the time, I was busy planning, busy graduating, and busy worrying about the future. I didn't take too many happy graduation pictures. I didn't remember the commencement ceremony being particularly cheerful or inspiring. I had to move out my room by a deadline, catch a flight, meet a group of strangers in a bus tour, and then relocate to the wild wild west.

I was tired of school, sick of planning, and had to continue schooling and planning in the foreseeable future.

But my parents were proud and cheerful. We sat on the floor of a moldy hostel to share Chinese take-out in styrofoams, hauled gigantic suitcases across the campus and then across the country, and took happy family pictures with trouts, buffaloes, and geysers in the background.

Now I have a car, an apartment, a degree, a joint account, and a man who apparently wants a wife and a kitty cat. I have learned to cook, to love, to pray, and to make time for people. I have made some amazing friends along the way, gazed some gorgeous sunsets and stars, and learned some either hopelessly useless or extremely dangerous legal vocabulary.

I will let no one, no one make me feel inferior,  humiliated, defeated, and desperate again. If one thing planning a wedding has taught me, it is the fact that I have a choice and people who care about me do not care.