I used to feel deep melancholia upon arriving at my grandparents’ house, empty, in the Poconos. But on the weekend of February 27th, the sprawling house, with its massive glass sliding doors, electric fireplace, and Italianate everything, felt full of love. Meg, Uriah, Kevin, and I spent the weekend laughing and discussing their imminent wedding plans–they are getting married on May 1st, 2026. 

We went on a snowy hike, scouted out by Meg, that led to a deep, mountainous landscape. My feet and legs felt heavy walking through the snow. We ate at Piggy’s, and drew small versions of Peppa Pig on paper placemats with Crayola crayons. We went to Cracker Barrel, Uriah’s first time, and enjoyed fried food and poor service. We ate Isgro’s cake, and creme brulee and tiramisu, courtesy of Meg and Uriah. We went to Louie’s Prime. We packaged their “invitation suites,” which were rich in cardstock and color. We took a wine walk, which turned into drinking by the fire and listening to “Everybody wants to Rule the World” (courtesy of Meg) and Mon Rovia (courtesy of me). I made them listen to “Streets of Minneapolis,” but only to show them how obtuse it was. 

Indeed, the Poconos house became imbued with a different kind of adoration. Meg and Uriah were quick to say “I love you guys,” and we were quick to say it back.