The Good Land

I'm nervous now, she said, her billowing white skirt filling the entire front seat of the car. The a/c was turned up to maximum capacity, the July sun beating down outside. He turned to her, quiet first. I am, too.

I walked ahead of them into the glade, a hundred of their dearests gathered around the flowered bow in anticipation. When her oldest friend sang, and the sunlight glittered through the hazel leaves, and everyone held their breaths, she cried. It was perfect. 

The party began to peter out as peach-colored dawn spread quietly over the misty fields beyond the glade. I saw them softly swaying at the edge of the dance floor, leaning on each other with quiet smiles on their lips. The world around them looked no different than before. 

And still, somehow, how everything was New.