M A
I D O
F H O
N
O
R · W
E
D
D
I N
G T
O
A
S
T
Emily
&
James
Saturday, June 13, 2026 · Willow Creek Gardens, Hudson Valley
◆
(Begin once the glasses are poured and the room has quieted.)
Good evening, everyone — I’m Sarah, Emily’s little sister and, officially, the proudest maid of
honor in this room. Before I begin, let me thank Grammy and Pop for this beautiful weekend,
and James’s parents for raising a son who texts back on the first try.
Growing up, I wanted to be Emily. I wore her hand-me-downs, borrowed her CDs, and
practiced her eyebrow raise until mine was almost passable. She taught me the words to every
song on the radio, how to parallel park without crying, and that a bad day can be fixed with a
salted-caramel cone — eaten somewhere inappropriate, like the car, in January.
So when she met James, I was — how do I put this — protective. But then I watched him. I
watched him sit through her forty-minute speech about otters without checking his phone
once. I watched him remember that she hates the burnt taste of bad coffee, that she cries at
dog-food commercials, and that her love language is snacks left on the nightstand. That is
not luck. That is paying attention.
James has a way of making my sister slow down, and Emily has a way of making him laugh
until he can’t finish his own sentence. Around each other, they are exactly, fully themselves —
and that is the rarest thing two people can give one another.
James, thank you for learning her. Em, thank you for letting yourself be known. If you would, please raise your glasses with
me —
To
Emily
and
James
—
to
a
home
full
of
laughter
,
to
arguments
that
end
in
giggles
,
and
to
a
lifetime
of
being
each
other
’
s
favorite
person
.
Cheers
.
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