Who is Coming?

That is the question I ask myself everyday--and my parents, as I continue to call them with this very question on my way home to the metro from work. Who has written their response, sealed the envelop and dropped it in the mail, to arrive at my parents' house a day or three later (depending, of course, on geographic proximity to Washington). At first, the responses were pouring in. One day, we even had nine, which my parents brought to me (it happened to also be the first day of Passover, so they were here for our sedar) and I eagerly ripped open, excited to see who could come, or who had to decline. But after the early flood, the responses have been slower. A few days, there haven't been any. Ususally, though, it's one or two, sometimes more. We're in the mushy middle of the May 5 response deadline, I fear. Cinco de mayo isn't exactly around the corner (everything is relative at this point. At the near end of the wedding planning, there is a ton to accomplish between today and tomorrow), so within the few days, even week, I imagine the slow steady trickle to continue. Then, as with any deadline--for work, school, or play--the pace will pick up, the number of envelopes pushed through my parents' door will skyrocket. And the answers, the yeses and the nos, will be known.