There is a long version of this story. It has the first message in it, and the call that went until morning, and the day one of us finally said the thing out loud.
That version takes an evening, and someone else's wine.
Here is the short one: it has always been you. Every turn since led to the same place — a Sunday in November, in Lagos, with both our families finally in one room.
The long version, we will tell you in person.
The cloth behind these words is showing you the range. Take any of it — light, deep, or somewhere between. Gele and fila most welcome.
One seat, in your name. We have counted the room person by person, and yours is the seat we are keeping.
If we have invited someone with you — a spouse, a partner, a plus-one — their name is on the invitation too. If it isn't, we're afraid we can't seat them.
As much as we love your little ones, we won't be including them in the rites or the reception. The hall seats a strict number — if every family brought their children, there would not be a seat for everyone we have invited.
We do recognise that some of you will be travelling with a child under the age of three. Let us know, and we'll make an exception.
