And my sister no longer shares my last name. It’s weird, this naming thing: a boyfriend becomes a husband, and a last name disappears—this last name that has joined the two of us, announcing that we are family. The word that codifies those strange moments of self recognition in another person. We are as much the same united as we always have been, joined by genes and history and our flailing limbs, but now… we are different people on paper.
And it was a beautiful wedding—simple, simply about the joy of finding your lobster. Chicken mole for dinner and frosted donuts for dessert, and dad on the dance floor (proof that flailing limbs come from somewhere).