Permanence in the age of impermanence

We don’t use the word “vow” that often, and I think it’s because there are few promises in our lives that we’re willing to consider unshakable.

Permanence in the age of impermanence

When I was growing up, my best friend lived five doors down from my house. From kindergarten through high school, I would often eat an early dinner at Peter’s house only to walk home and eat a second dinner with my family. This was the weekly routine on Eudora street in Denver all throughout the 90s and early 2000s. College took us to different places, but Colorado pulled us both back home, and Peter and I rekindled our friendship five years ago, not long before he met Christine. Since then, the dinners have continued; last year Peter and I took our moms out on a double-date, and Peter, Christine, and I have shared many dinners together as they’ve built a life as partners. A few years ago, I was sitting at their dinner table one night when they surprised me by asking if I would officiate their wedding. I spent months preparing, asking them about their vision for their marriage and what big story they wanted to speak to the world by being together. After many COVID delays, the wedding finally took place a few weeks ago, and I watched as they exchanged vows. We don’t use the word “vow” that often, and I think it’s because there are few promises in our lives that we’re willing to consider unshakable. In a world full of change and flux, it is something to revere when people make permanent commitments to each other. Here’s to lifelong commitments and childhood friends.