*Lindsay Foster*

I had the extreme honor of standing in my very dear friend Lindsay Quilling (now Foster!)'s wedding this weekend, and it couldn't have been a more beautiful day. From hair-dos to helping her put on her dress to sing-alongs on a trolley to photos with lion statues near a lighthouse, to a ceremony lit by enormous windows and fall colors, to a delicious feast and a dance floor jam-packed with friends and family... it was a day I will remember for the rest of my life. Here is what I had to say to Lindsay about it, microphone in hand, glass raised:

Lindsay, I did some math and figured out that you and I have experienced a total of 88 seasons together. 88! In 22 years and at four seasons a pop, we've whipped through those calendar pages like wild fire. We've had springs full of rainy reading days, field trips to art museums with my grandma and soccer games with your dad and birthday parties wearing all of our clothes backwards at your house. We've had summers full of quiet backyard afternoons, trips to the Dells, cheese fries at the pool, and finally shaving our legs. We've had autumns full of first days of school (the very first of which, at Mequon Junior Kindergarden, was shared with four of us sitting up here: Lindsay, Maggie, Jeff and I)... of pumpkin farms and leaf piles and embarrassing high school dances, of New York streets that make you feel brand new and lights that inspire you. We've had winters full of ice skating trips with my dad and ski trips that ended up in knee surgeries, Christmas parties and forgetful New Years nights. We've had it all, round and round, together for most of it, apart when we needed to be, and always growing. During the seasons when I needed a sister, you became one. During the seasons when you needed one, I was there.

Now, Brandt has had, what is it... 6 x 4... 24 seasons with you... it's no 88 but it's getting there, and I cannot wait to see your calendars flip and to watch your seasons together unfold. You'll have springs full of trips across oceans, red tulips in your yard, lawn mowing Saturdays and sunny car rides. You'll have summers full of baseball barbecues, lazy lake Michigan Sunday afternoons, babies running through sprinklers while you sit in sunglasses and laugh. You'll have cinnamon smelling autumns with warm sweaters and packer games, full of dance parties with us, and thanksgivings in your very own kitchen. You'll have winters with each other, winter after winter, snowfall after quiet snowfall, shoveling, sledding, hiding presents under the tree, together. To you, Lindsay and Brandt, to your love, to your seasons, and to this beautiful Autumn memory.