Going Up

It began, as many things do, in the elevator.

And it led, as things often do, to South Boston, and to everybody's favorite cousin-friend, Kristen.

I mean really. Could she be more adorable? Could Uncle Frank?

The church was full of camera- and phone-bearing paparazzi siblings and cousins . . .

. . . it was, quite obviously, the Royal Wedding of 2015.

And then?

Boom. Married. To her big tall Greek god. Her bff and her main man and everybody's favorite cousin-friend-husband.

That dress!

We exited the church and realized what our day would be like: surrounded by people to whom we are related, and who we adore.

And yes, of course, a bridal party party bus.

There was a lot of smiling . . .

. . . and a lot of photo-bombing . . .

. . . and an awful lot of beautiful people.

Kristen's house!

And then we made our way back to the hotel . . .

. . . and joyfully caught another elevator ride. Every time we got in an elevator, all day and night, we were related to everybody in it. And sometimes we even knew their names.

Kidding! We always knew their names. We are in charge of knowing all the names. Even if we are sometimes slow in remembering said names. But always, the names came to us.

We had a little bit of time between the ceremony and the reception, so we hit the streets, and everywhere we went, we saw beautiful people we are related to.

I am here to tell you, if this generation is the future of our world, well you can just relax: we've got nothing to worry about. They've got this.

Oh, Hello Boston.

Mistah does Beantown.

We finally got to reunite with our long-lost relatives -- it had been an hour! -- and the festivities began in earnest.

I love the bride and I love the groom, and I love all her peeps following her like the royalty she is.

Like the royalty they are.

The bridal party was introduced:

Patti and her usher man made quite the dramatique entrance . . .

. . . as did head-main Janet . . .

. . . the bride and groom entered with their permanent, ear-to-ear grins . . .

. . . seriously. They looked like this all day.

And then? Well, then it was Cousin Frousin Time.

Krista, Cal and Patti.

Meghan and Herself.

Me and Jacquelyn.

Table 11, baby!

Speaking of babes . . . 

Speaking of Table 11 . . . 

Cousinnnnnnns!

Meg and Mary and Kara.

Meg and (two of) her handsome boys.

Mikey P. and Timmy.

Mykle and Ellie (yay, Ellie!) and Kevin (who looks like Erin's Aaron)

Seriously. This is what we gazed upon all the day.

The original generation had 100% attendance and 100% awesomeness. Yay Mom! Yay Uncle Paul!

And did I mention my cousins? Sarah and Eileenie-beans . . .

. . . and Kerin and JQ . . .

. . . and the lights of Boston.

Later that night there was some piano revelry . . .

. . . and a lot of boy cousins having a great time. Even though their dad-and-or-uncle Bobby sprayed them with water when he walked by. Because he's still 11, too.

And at the very end of the night, like almost exactly 12 hours after she walked up the aisle, my darlin' girl cousin Kristen still looked like this:

She was a vision of grace and loveliness and calm and beauty and her man never left her side and I predict they are going to live happily every after.

And as for the rest of us?

Well, our night ended, as these things often do, in the elevator...........