A Wedding Toast

My baby brother is getting married this weekend. Rather than subject myself to the post-wedding recap, which consists of me sitting on the couch weeping hot, embarrassing tears on my hands as I type, I decided to one-up my emotional self by writing it preemptively.

I wrote a similar tribute for Ryan a few years ago on my former blog, but being the Casanova that he was—he snuck in and beat his older sister to the altar, keeping me from asserting my role as the nuptial Yoda.

I by no means consider myself the “Dear Abby” of marriage knowledge now, but I feel like this time around I can contribute more to the wedding scene than acting as the fondue taste-tester at the reception.

Because public speaking outranks death on people’s greatest fears list, wedding toasts are understandably kept short; traditional; light-hearted; congratulatory. There’s always that one person who doesn’t make sense but ends with the boisterous “To the happy couple” that makes people cheer and forget the incoherence that happened two minutes prior.

But I wanted to toast to the things that never get said; to the things that do the dirty work behind the scenes of happiness:

· Taylor: May your spontaneous “I’m thinking of you” texts outnumber the 1,247 articles of dirty laundry that will now consume your life.

· Kelsey: May you have the Domino’s app on your phone for just the right occasion. Signs to look for: a stressed out female and/or a burned food item.

· Taylor: May no Febreeze, no Glade, no candle find itself capable of hiding your genuine excitement to see each other. But may it mask everything else that comes along with living with a dude.

· Kelsey: May your quirky sound effects, unmatchable facial expressions and inability to get embarrassed create laughter when it is so desperately needed.

· Taylor: May you cover him with respect, love, and admiration always. And continue to make sure he is covered in fashionable attire. (Minus the Grizzly bear shirt. You have to keep that for posterity).

· Kelsey: May you come to understand that washing a few pans and folding some underwear trumps roses every day of the week, and twice on chili day.

· Taylor: May your hints not be subtle, your frustrations not be coded, and your expectations plainly written with a boldface marker on a whiteboard.

· Kelsey: May you learn the value of the phrase, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

· Taylor: May you sleep an extra hour every time someone asks when you’re having kids.

· Kelsey: May you find something cute about her when she’s mad; and keep that to yourself until she’s done being mad.

· To both of you: May you know how to graciously take advice; and when to kindly ignore it. May you pave the way to your own happiness and find it in unsuspecting places.