“Here, something for you.”
A long, yellow envelope, complemented with that unmistakable fragrance, drops onto my desk.
It was addressed to me. I gingerly slid the card out and read the contents within.
My first time receiving such lovely tidings!
I feel honoured! Elated! Privileged!
So what if the event is to take place three states away and down south, reachable only by a six-hour journey by bus?
I mean, my name was written on both the envelope and the card. For once, I was not regarded as an unnamed element; an unidentified recipient, conveniently looped into the latter part of “So-and-so and family”.
This is an official invitation, extended only to me!
Ah… this makes me feel so much like an adult – even though there is still that one big thing which never fails to remind me that I am, in actuality, yet to be quite the grown-up that I am supposed to be. Feeling is always different than being.
Oh, never mind that.
This is great, but…
I am expecting another wedding invitation coming my way already.