Shawni & Ben
The DAR, Washington. June fifth. The day, as it happened.
One block west of the White House, the Daughters of the American Revolution keep a Beaux-Arts landmark in white marble: thirteen columns along the portico, one for each of the original colonies, with a clear line of sight to the Washington Monument. On the fifth of June, it was Shawni and Ben’s.
A hand-lettered welcome at the door, calla lilies by the armful, five tiers of cake, and tables set beneath the barrel vault. The house, dressed for the evening.
Ben waited at the balustrade with the Monument for company. Shawni crossed the terrace behind him. Half the wedding party watched through the windows.
Laughter on the couch, bottles cracked around the table, and one very sharp lineup at the front door.
Under the flag, in front of everyone they love: mothers walked, the little ones sprinted, the vows held steady, and the whole lawn let go at the kiss.
Then the house turned into a dance hall: a first dance with the Monument watching, a crowd that would not sit down, and one last kiss on the balustrade.