happy uncomplicated lives

I met Anny at a wedding reception.

I am not a great fan of receptions, let alone wedding receptions, especially in the US. (I could also write about ten dozen paragraphs about my issues with American weddings, but promised myself I will try to keep my posts shorter).

It’s because I am socially-challenged. Hopeless at small talk. And very-awfully uncomfortable having to make acquaintances that are supposed to last a quarter of an hour.

Anny was an exception.

She was born in France before WWII. Her parents – I assume at least one of them had to be Jewish – emigrated to Argentina, where she spent most of her childhood. Then, in 1947, she moved to the US. “I grew up speaking French and Spanish, that’s why when I speak English, my accent is hard to detect” she said.

Mine is probably easier, but nevertheless she was not able to decipher it (I have no idea why, but it always makes me feel good, when people have problems trying to guess my accent).

Where did you come from? How long ago? What do you do? She was firing questions like from a machine gun and I could see in her shiny, black eyes that she was genuinely interested. I did not have to talk for long. “I know exactly what you are going through” she said after about one minute.

A few hours and many toasts-speeches-hors d'oevres -champagne-and-wine-glasses later, we bumped into each other again. This time it was in a tent where a live band was playing. My daughter who assumed a flower girl duties for the day (do not ask me about a 100 dollar plastic dress she had to done) was dancing with her grandparents. A lot of goofiness and laughter.

“You should be happy that you daughter has such happy and uncomplicated grandparents” Anny told me. “Because she will be able to live a happy and uncomplicated life."

Just as she was saying it, I noticed that the bride parted with her elegant high-heels and was dancing bare feet. One of her elegant braid’s maids donned sneakers and you could barely see a Nike logo from under her long, red satin dress.
Happy, uncomplicated lives. I can't stop thinking about it.

Do I want my daughter to live a happy and uncomplicated life? Or is it more complicated than that?

Happily, it’s probably not upon me to decide.