I’m a short walking distance from the home I grew up in far East Plano. I know the street very well – it used to be a winding, dirt & gravel road with a small sprinkling of homes on it, all sitting on large acreages of land. We (the Plano East kids) learned how to drive on that street since it was so rarely utilized. After we got our licenses, we (still the aforementioned Plano East kids) would stretch our freedom and race down that street. One of the houses put large rocks on the largest curve because we were constantly driving through their lawn, taking that curve too quickly. I never hit those rocks, but way too many of my friends did.
In the <mumble, mumble, mumble> years since high school, that street was paved and the large acreages were replaced with beautiful custom homes on large, un-fenced lots. It still retained much of it’s natural beauty – the manicured lawns sprinkled with clusters of gorgeous, large oak and pecan trees.
On this particular Saturday, I found myself in a cul-de-sac off this street that I knew so well – walking into a wedding where I was the most unfamiliar I have ever been. For the first time ever, I had not even spoken to the bride or the groom beforehand. All of the details had been handled through the wedding planner and I was just hoping I could figure out who the bride and groom before I said something very silly.
