Forgive my indulgence.

Getting married next Saturday is the best decision I've ever made. I sincerely feel like the luckiest person I know. If I were a religious man I would use the word blessed.

I think of myself as a person whose belief system is based predominately in "reality." I believe in things that are provable. That being said, there are plenty of things I can't measure or "see" that I believe, things I think of often and will never truly understand: time is relative, the immensity of the universe, the power of human emotions.

My "pragmatic" belief system led me to reject ideas I shouldn't have:
-One person can change the world. (They can and do.)
-People can change (they can...for better or worse).
-I had to solve everything by myself (I underestimated peoples' abilities, or their capacity for caring).
-Marriage. (I dismissed it as antiquated, patriarchal, wealth control, institutionalized nonsense. Frankly, I thought it was a con.)

The irony (besides the all-too obvious irony that I'm getting married) is that my parents had an exemplary marriage. What I saw between them was respect, affection, empathy. What I never saw between them was disrespect, hostility, dishonesty. I never saw (and I mean this...never once) spite, hatred, apathy, jealousy.

Of course there were disagreements, between them, between my brothers and I, every imaginable combination.

And too little time.

It's easy to romanticize the past, especially now, so close to my own wedding. The emotions I feel from moment to moment are so heightened that everything I do (I'm not exaggerating...everything, from what I pick up at the grocery store to how I stand at the plate in my coed softball league) is literally imbued with more emotion than maybe such mundane acts should ever posses.

I well up with tears on a daily basis. We were sitting in Leona's the other day, just going over the plans for the ceremony: the introductions, who goes down the aisle when, we say the vows, etc. etc., and I started crying.

And my dad won't be there. I can't believe it's been almost seven years since he died. He never saw me go to grad school, write a play, never met the woman who is going to be the mother of my children. In so many ways he made me a better person, and Penny makes me a better person still.

Whatever good is in me is mine. But I didn't form it alone. Far from it. At this point in my life my human frailties are all mine; my strengths have been absorbed from better sources: philosophers, artists, people I've met (and I'm grateful for what I'm able to recognize as good in the world).

I never believed in "meant to be." And I still don't. It's nothing more than pure coincidence that Penny and I met. We were born in different cities, years apart. Grew up in completely different parts of the country. Our families were from different continents. We weren't introduced by friends, or betrothed as children. There was nothing "arranged" about our meeting; (I know, I know...that makes it seem even more like it was preordained). We were waiting tables in some random restaurant. When we met, there was undoubtedly a spark...but how did it happen that this person grew to become for me ... more than I believed was possible.

We've heard people say (usually in bad movies) I love her so much it scares me. I have no idea what these people are talking about. I've never felt safer in my life. Do I worry about money and kids (I have dreams about them) and "The Future?" Of course.

I'm not walking around in a foggy euphoria (I read way too much about politics to have any delusions). I know life is hard, and I know how lucky I am in more ways than I probably deserve.

Penny is the most obvious example of that.