Obviously, my thoughts go to
the Royal Wedding from last year.
I remember getting up at 4am to watch Charles and Diana's wedding, and
here I am watching his son do the same thirty years later, at what turns
out to be almost exactly the same age as my own father was (him that day 38 years, 7 months, and 17 days, me today at 38 years, 9 months, and 15 days.)
Throw in the world's collective memory of "I watched this boy grow up,
from being born to his mother's funeral and now this morning," and it's
easy to get caught up in things.
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