Rachel Baglietto nee Adams

I just finished packing away Rachel's wedding dress. It is now folded up, but not squished, into a large blue Roughneck container between layers of acid-free tissue paper. It hung in the door frame of one of the bedrooms for ages after the wedding. Then it was sent to the cleaners to get the mud off the front hem. That was acquired walking down the steps from the church to the van and from the van to the Dining Hall.

Slowly the last bits of the wedding and shower are being cleared away. The big poster board titled "Rachel's Brains" was pulled off the fridge, the last of the party favors made by Mrs. Sandford have been properly disposed of (yum!), the calendar no longer displays a carefully choreographed layout of the month of January with marriage counseling sessions, airport runs, arrival times, etc.

Maybe now that the details and reminders are disappearing, I can actually start figuring out what just happened.

My sister, Rachel, remember her? just got married. If you didn't happen to notice. Weird. And yet, so right.

But how did it happen? And will it really ever sink in? An Adams girl? Married? I guess we can ditch that idea of all being old maids together like the Bronte sisters.

Actually, that wasn't such a good idea anyway. I just read a quick bio of them- apparently there were 6 kids total- 5 girls and one boy. Eldest two girls died early, the mom died of cancer. Then the four remaining kids and their dad hung out together trying to piece together a living tutoring, pastoring, writing. Then three of the kids died inside two years. First the boy died of alcohol and opium abuse, then two girls of tuberculosis. They were all right around 30 years old. Charlotte, the one who wrote Jane Eyre, lived a while longer and even got married. But she died while pregnant with her first child. She was 38.

So... yay for Rachel getting married! Now we aren't doomed to writing novels full of angst or dying early of sickness or substance abuse. Thanks, dear!