Eleanor and Henry

Dear friends and family — when we sat down to write this, we kept circling back to the same thing: we have spent the better part of a decade being loved into the people we are now, mostly by you, often without your noticing. So this is, first, a thank-you. We met one rainy afternoon in a borrowed kitchen, both pretending to know what we were doing with a pie crust. Henry burned the lattice. Eleanor laughed too loudly. The pie was, eventually, fine. The years since have looked a lot like that pie — improvised, slightly singed at the edges, made better by company. On the 23rd we'd like very much to stand in front of you and say the words out loud. Bring your good shoes and your appetites. Stay late if you can. We have planned exactly the kind of evening we'd want to be invited to, and we wanted you in it. With the joy of our families,