lots + lots = nothing

I guess I could blog about the summer. The weddings, the countries, the people.

I could tell you about the girl who became my best friend when we were twelve, and her Tuscan wedding. The delicious Italian food and local wine we feasted on surrounded by olive groves.

I could tell you about the boy who has known me my whole life, and the way he looked at his new wife. The hats their guests wore and the ceremony in little English church that moved them both to tears. The rattling cans and wide grins as they drove off.

I could tell you about my high school friend who used to sit on a sofa most of the school day, dressed in black, watching other students trundle between classes. The American flags that waved as they said their vows and the table of old friends who haven't changed.

I could compare and contrast - confetti vs. rose petals vs. bubbles - Italy vs. England vs. America - bridesmaids, party games, drinks, dancing, people.

Or I could forget all that and fill in the gaps between the weddings. I could tell you about the day at the Italian beach with my Pole. The ease with which he slipped into the various groups he was thrust. The dinner that marked three years together.

I could. But I won't.

Sometimes there's just too much to say. Sometimes you just have to turn away and start something completely new.