After basking in the singles scene for so long, my friend A finally put a period on singlehood. She got married in a quaint, middle-of-the-ricefields chapel in the best way she knew how: in style.
At the reception, the speeches were all about good wishes and hopes for a happy future. About living with and accepting (hah!) each other. Take away the good lucks, the fair warnings and the mild admonitions, and you get this: marriage is a process, not a product.
As one who is a year short of being a veteran at this marriage thing (we have yet to pass the seven-year itch, or test, or whatever you call it) I can say that really, marriage is not a destination. It is but the start of a long journey that is at times traveled on the smoothest freeway and at times on roads littered with broken plates and sharp expletives (don't ask me, ask the neighbors, he he).
The start of the journey comes with the usual--and sometimes unusual--send-offs: punch bowls, flat irons, wall clocks, the Buddha, a potty full of coins, the Bible in a Walker briefs box, coy singles dodging the bouquet and the garter. Above all, marriage is a rite of passage that effectively puts an end to the irksome “kelan kami makakahigop ng sabaw?” and opens doors to the even more irritating “may laman na ba?” or "kelan masusundan?"
Of course, A knew better. She didn't ask me to deliver my piece. :p