I'm still half-asleep and a little beer-sodden. The wedding has come and gone. I watched my dear friend marry Angelo at a villa on a mountainside. My eyes ferociously blinked back tears when she read the "I Love You" poem, partly because it was I who first gave her that poem in friendship, but mostly because of how it was so perfect for them that she could have written it herself. I wanted to give a toast, but I knew I'd break down. I wanted to say that I've known Gena for a long time now, but I've never seen her as happy as she is with the man whom I've known for 17 days. I wanted to say that they are a perfect match, in their personalities, senses of humor, and ways of seeing the world. That I loved watching them teach each other, not just their native words, but in the ways of their souls. That they not only love and like each other, but respect and admire each other. That he is an exceptional person in every way. That I know now that it was fate who brought my friend across the ocean to this beautiful place. That I can't regret her being so far away, because this is where she is meant to be -- because her home now is wherever he is, wherever that may be -- in our hometown, with pieces of her past surrounding her, or in this deeply moving place which holds a longer past, the past of a culture that spreads over the world, and right holds now her present and her future. That I know she is safe with him, that she is loved, and that every day, she will be laughing. That's what I wanted to say.
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