G
M
A I
D O F H O N O R S P E E C H
For
Sarah
&
Daniel
Emma Collins
·
Maid of Honor
Saturday, June 14, 2026 · Rosewood Barn, Rhinebeck, New York
✦
ood evening, everyone. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Emma — Sarah's
best friend for the past twenty-two years, and today, her very proud maid of honor.
Twenty-two years is a long time. It's longer than I've had most of my adult memories. And
it's certainly longer than Daniel has known her. But I can tell you the exact moment it
started.
It was the first day of first grade in Mrs. Kowalski's class. I didn't know a single person. I
had a brand-new lunchbox I was deeply proud of. I sat down at the art table, and the girl
next to me — with two strawberry-blonde braids — handed me half of her grilled cheese
without being asked. That was Sarah. She has been quietly feeding the people she loves,
unasked, ever since.
• • •
We grew up two houses apart. We ran a lemonade stand out of a wagon and sold eleven
cups — three of them to my dad, who paid extra and pretended it was delicious. We shared
a bike with a bent handlebar, and I still have the scar on my knee from the time she dared
me to jump the curb. We invented a secret handshake that took us a month to learn, and
we still do it before every important moment in each other's lives. You are all witnessing
the important moments.
• • •
And here's the thing about Sarah — she never stopped being the person who shows up.
When my mom was in the hospital, Sarah appeared in the waiting room with four
magazines, a bag of gummy bears, and no intention of leaving until visiting hours ended.
When I moved across the country and didn't know a soul, my phone rang every Sunday at
ten in the morning, like clockwork, for two years straight.
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