The weather reports were iffy, with predictions of rain and thunderstorms, but when we woke in the morning and looked out that huge hotel window things looked promising. There were bands of clouds, to be sure, but streaks of blue and the river 19 floors down shimmered.
Luck held. The day turned glorious with soft meringue-white clouds riding the September breeze. The nip in the air was gentled by a brilliant slanting sun.
The property was scrubbed til it shone. You could see the effort and love of preparation in every detail: the freshly mown lawn, the neatly organized corn field, the taut white tent. They had power washed (power washed!) the old barn. M and I remarked we had never seen a barn so free of dust, cobwebs, mice-made piles of hay.
A milky way of white cloth draped the rafters. The sun slid through the barn walls like a quiet guest. The one you want to stand next to because of the glowing happiness you feel just being near him.
And then the couple, of course they glowed. How could they not? They had each other in that moment, and the sunlight and the spotless barn, and their families and friends and the violin in the corner and the waxing moon transiting quietly above.
And then the fairy lights and the tea lights set in cups of unpopped popcorn and the DJ’s dance lights streaking like colored meteors on the tent ceiling and generations all together on the dance floor making their own vivid glow.
And over all the stars and moon, the Pleiades peeking just over the horizon, knowing their time of white was coming soon.
You have a month like this, of crazy travel, airport security lines, ironing linen in hotel rooms, wearing new shoes, dancing in spite of yourself, wishing the best of love and luck to the couples who are already luckier than shiny coins. You have a month of this and you are changed a little. There’s a nugget of sunlight in your belly that keeps on glowing and will not dim.